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GOLDONI 

A  BIOGRAPHY 


CARLO   GOLDONI. 
Portrait  by  Alessandro  Longhi 


Museo  Correr 


GOLDONI 


A   BIOGRAPHY 


BY 


H.  C.  CHATFI ELD-TAYLOR,  LITT.  D. 

Author  of  Moliere:  A  Biography,  etc. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  FROM  THE  PAINTINGS  OF 
PIETRO   and  ALESSANDRO  LONGHI 


NEW  YORK 
DUFFIELD  &  COMPANY 

MDCDXIII 


COPYRIGHT,  1913 
BT  DUFFIELD  &  COMPANY 


TO 

BRANDER  MATTHEWS 

IN  APPRECIATION  OF  GENEROUS 
FRIENDSHIP 


GOLDONI 

The  sonnet  written  by  Robert  Browning  for  the  al- 
bum of  the  committee  of  the  Goldoni  Monument, 
erected  in  Venice  in  1883. 

Goldoni— good,  gay,  sunniest  of  souls,— 

Glassing  half  Venice  in  that  verse  of  thine,— 
What  though  it  just  reflect  the  shade  and  shine 
Of  common  life,  nor  render,  as  it  rolls, 

Grandeur  and  gloom?    Sufficient  for  thy  shoals 
Was  Carnival;  Parini's  depths  enshrine 
Secrets  unsuited  to  that  opaline 
Surface  of  things  which  laughs  along  thy  scrolls. 

There  throng  the  people:  how  they  come  and  go, 
Lisp  the  soft  language,  flaunt  the  bright  garb,— see, — 
On  Piazza,  Calle,  under  Portico 

And  over  Bridge!    Dear  king  of  Comedy, 
Be  honoured!  thou  that  didst  love  Venice  so, — 
Venice,  and  we  who  love  her,  all  love  thee! 


CONTENTS 

PREFACE ix 

I     CHILDHOOD    AND   YOUTH 3 

II     THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT 44 

III  THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY 83 

IV  THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY 120 

V  FROM  ARCADIA  TO  THALIA'S  SHRINE     .     .      .      .152 

VI  PLAYWRIGHT  OF  THE  SANT'  ANGELO  THEATRE     .   181 

VII  PLAYWRIGHT  OF  THE  SAN  LUCA  THEATRE     .      .  206 

VIII     COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY 230 

IX     COMEDIES  OF  THE   BOURGEOISIE 272 

X  COMEDIES  IN  THE  VENETIAN  DIALECT  .     .     .     .310 

XI     EXOTIC    COMEDIES 359 

XII     RIVALS    AND    CRITICS 389 

XIII  COMEDIES  IN  VERSE 427 

XIV  EXPATRIATION         464 

XV     DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE 499 

XVI      GOLDONI  AND  MOLIERE 532 

XVII     CONCLUSION 561 

APPENDICES:     A,     GOLDONI'S  WORKS   ....   601 

B,  CHRONOLOGY 638 

C,  BIBLIOGRAPHY 646 

INDEX 669 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Portrait  of  Goldoni Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

Carnival  Maskers 6 

The  Convent  Parlour* 36 

Love's  Messenger 76 

Pantalone  and  Fellow  Masks no 

Mountebank  Jugglery 182 

The  Ridotto*      .      . 216 

Cicisbei  and  My  Lady* 238 

My  Lady's  Toilet* 259 

Goldoni  in  a  Coffee-House 278 

The  Fortune-Teller 324 

Common   People 350 

Goldoni  in  Colombani's  Book-Shop 416 

The  Pastry  Huckstress 462 

The  Dancing  Lesson 490 

The  Card  Party 574 

*  Attributed  by  Signer  Aldo  Rava,  in  his  Pietro  Longhi,  to  the  manner 
of  Longhi,  rather  than  to  the  Master  himself. 


PREFACE 

\ 

Five  years  ago,  the  Chevalier  Guido  Sabetta,  then 
Italian  consul  in  Chicago,  urged  me  to  write  as  a 
companion  volume  to  Moliere :  A  Biography,  a  life 
of  Carlo  Goldoni,  the  "Moliere  of  Italy."  More  to 
gratify  the  patriotism  of  my  friend  than  from  any 
predilection  for  the  task,  I  began  to  read  the  com- 
edies of  this  Venetian  dramatist  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury; my  work  had  not  progressed  far,  however, 
before  I  became  grateful  to  Signor  Sabetta  for  hav- 
ing pressed  upon  me  with  Italian  fervour  the  subject 
of  a  book,  Goldoni  being,  as  I  soon  discovered,  a 
genius  of  the  stage  to  whom  the  English  world  of 
letters  has  paid  scant  honour.  Indeed,  that  very  so- 
briquet, the  "Moliere  of  Italy,"  has  sorely  blinded 
non-Italian  eyes  to  his  originality,  his  dramatic 
naturalism  being  peculiarly  his  own,  and  his  genius 
quite  distinct  from  that  of  Le  Grand  Comique.  Al- 
though Signor  Wolf-Ferrari's  pleasing  music  to  Le 
Donne  curiose,  or  the  occasional  performance  of  a 
comedy,  either  in  the  original  by  Italian  players,  or 
in  English  by  some  college  club  or  local  dramatic 
troupe,  has  made  Goldoni's  name  appear  now  and 
then  on  an  English  or  American  program,  I  venture 
to  say  that  it  is  still  unknown  in  the  English-speaking 
world,  except  to  the  student  or  traveller.  Goldoni's 


x  PREFACE 

fellow-countrymen,  however,  have  written  of  him 
even  more  generally  than  the  French  have  of  their 
genius  of  comedy,  while  the  second  centenary  of  his 
birth,  celebrated  in  1907,  was  made  the  occasion  of 
a  demonstration  more  truly  national  than  any  ever 
accorded  to  the  memory  of  either  Shakespeare  or 
Moliere. 

In  writing  this  biography,  my  intention  has  been 
to  tell  the  story  of  Goldoni's  life  for  English  readers, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  to  trace  the  main  currents  of 
his  prolific  work  for  the  stage  of  his  day.  He  wrote 
nearly  three  hundred  plays  and  libretti,  and  his  ef- 
forts covered  practically  the  entire  realm  of  the 
drama ;  yet  he  is  eminent  only  as  a  writer  of  comedy, 
I  have  laid  particular  stress,  therefore,  upon  his 
comedic  work,  my  aim  having  been  to  present  Gol- 
doni  not  only  as  a  fruitful  dramatist,  but  also  as  a 
naturalistic  painter  of  life,  whose  comedies  present  a 
vivid  picture  of  an  epoch.  His  memoirs,  begun  in 
his  seventy-seventh  year  and  finished  when  he  had 
reached  the  ripe  age  of  eighty,  are  so  delightfully 
ingenuous  and  frank  that  I  have  quoted  freely  from 
their  pages,  it  being  my  conviction  that  no  biographer 
can  portray  this  merry  Venetian  more  charmingly  or 
more  faithfully  than  he  has  portrayed  himself. 

In  the  chapters  devoted  to  the  comedies,  I  have 
translated  all  the  quoted  passages,  whether  in  prose 
or  verse,  using  English  heroic  measure  for  the  ex- 
cerpts from  the  versified  plays.  The  Italian  verse 
form  most  commonly  employed  by  Goldoni  is  the 


PREFACE 


XI 


Martellian  rhymed  couplet,  a  form  suggestive  of  the 
French  Alexandrine,  and  like  it  opposed  to  the  spirit 
of  our  language.  It  has  seemed  wise,  therefore,  to 
use,  as  I  did  for  my  translations  of  Moliere's  Alexan- 
drines, the  blank  verse  measure  of  our  own  dramatic 
poetry,  rather  than  attempt  to  render  in  English 
Goldoni's  rhymed  heptameters. 

In  order  that  the  reader,  unacquainted  with  Ital- 
ian, may  understand  their  significance,  the  titles  of 
Goldoni's  plays,  as  well  as  those  by  other  writers 
of  the  period,  have  been  translated.  The  first  time 
a  play  is  mentioned,  or  when  it  becomes  the  subject 
of  special  comment,  I  have,  as  in  Mo  Here:  A  Biog- 
raphy, given  the  foreign  titles  in  parentheses.  For 
the  Italian  titles  of  plays  and  books,  the  prevailing 
continental  method  of  capitalization  has  been  used. 
In  order  not  to  mar  the  appearance  of  the  pages  by 
a  too  frequent  use  of  italics,  Italian  words  such  as 
scenario  or  cicisbeo,  of  which  repeated  use  is  made, 
have,  after  their  first  appearance,  been  printed  in 
Roman  type ;  while,  for  a  like  reason,  French  words 
in  familiar  use  have  not  been  italicized. 

In  the  footnotes,  intended  for  the  student  rather 
than  the  general  reader,  only  the  Italian  titles  of 
plays  appear,  the  index  being  so  arranged  that  the 
references  to  any  particular  play  may  be  found  by 
consulting  the  title  in  either  English  or  Italian. 
The  footnotes  also  give  the  authorities  for  important 
statements,  as  well  as  the  titles  of  books  or  articles 
from  which  quotations  have  been  made.  The  reader 


xii  PREFACE 

seeking  original  sources,  or  wishing  to  pursue  further 
the  study  of  the  dramatist,  may  find  in  the  bibliogra- 
phy a  comprehensive  list  of  the  titles,  authors,  and 
dates  of  publication  of  the  books  and  articles  which 
deal  with  Goldoni's  life  and  works,  or  are  valuable 
as  biographical  and  critical  sources. 

It  may  be  said  in  this  connection  that  Goldoni  has 
been  singularly  neglected  by  Anglo-Saxon  writers. 
Though  a  few  of  his  comedies  have  been  translated, 
none  of  his  masterpieces  in  the  Venetian  dialect  have 
been  brought  within  the  reach  of  English  readers. 
An  incomplete  and  inadequate  translation  of  his  de- 
lightful memoirs  was  made  by  John  Black  in  1814, 
an  abridged  edition  of  which  was  published  in  Boston 
in  1877,  with  a  biographical  introduction  by  Mr. 
Howells,  in  which  Goldoni's  character  is  drawn  with 
both  benignity  and  charm.  In  her  Studies  of  the 
Eighteenth  Century  in  Italy,  Vernon  Lee  devotes  an 
excellent,  though  cursory,  chapter  to  his  life  and 
dramatic  work;  in  the  introduction  to  his  translation 
of  Carlo  Gozzi's  memoirs  John  Addington  Symonds 
presents,  albeit  grudgingly,  Goldoni's  merits ;  while 
in  an  introduction  to  an  inferior  translation  of  four 
of  his  comedies,  published  in  1892,  Miss  Helen  Zim- 
mern  narrates  with  considerable  inaccuracy  the  prin- 
cipal events  of  his  life.  To  this  list  of  English  writ- 
ings may  be  added  Edward  Copping's  Alfieri  and 
Goldoni:  Their  Lives  and  Adventures,  published  in 
1857,  and  Mr.  Lacy  Collisorr-Morley's  recently  pub- 
lished Modern  Italian  Literature,  which  contains 


PREFACE 


Xlll 


a  review  of  the  dramatist's  work;  yet  there  is  no  book 
in  English  devoted  entirely  to  this  master  spirit  of 
Italian  comedy. 

With  less  excuse,  it  would  seem,  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  he  wrote  for  their  own  stage,  French  men  of 
letters  have  been  quite  as  remiss  in  regard  to  Goldoni 
as  our  own  have  been.  In  his  delightful  Venise  au 
XVIII e  siecle  Philippe  Monnier  devotes  a  pleasing 
but  brief  chapter  to  the  dramatist's  life  and  work. 
Charles  Rabany's  Carlo  Goldoni:  Le  theatre  et  la 
vie  en  Italie  au  XVIII e  siecle  is  comprehensive  but 
not  always  accurate;  while  M.  Maurice  Mignon's 
chapter  on  Goldoni  in  his  recently  published  Etudes 
de  litterature  italienne  is  but  a  superficial  review  of 
the  dramatist's  career. 

Probably  because  of  Goethe's  praise  of  him,  the 
Germans  have  been  more  assiduous  than  other  for- 
eigners in  studying  Goldoni,  a  goodly  number  of 
books  and  doctors'  theses  devoted  to  him  having  ap- 
peared in  Germany.  Among  them  should  be  noted 
J.  H.  Saal's  translation  of  forty-four  of  Goldoni's 
plays,  the  late  Hermann  Von  Lohner's  critical  edi- 
tion of  the  first  volume  of  Goldoni's  Memoires  and 
his  studies  on  Goldoni's  life  in  the  Ateneo  Veneto, 
H.  A.  Luder's  Carlo  Goldoni  in  seinem  Verhaltnis 
zu  Moliere,  J.  Merz's  Carlo  Goldoni  in  seiner  Stel- 
lung  zum  franzosischen  Lustspiel,  Marcus  Landau's 
Carlo  Goldoni,  J.  L.  Klein's  Geschichte  des  italien- 
ischen  Dramas,  L.  Mathar's  Carlo  Goldoni  auf 
dem  Deutschen  Theater  des  XFIII  Jahrhunderts, 


xiv  PREFACE 

and  B.  Schmidbauer's  Das  Komische  bei  Goldoni. 

To  the  Italians  we  must  turn,  however,  when  seek- 
ing accurate  information  about  "Papa  Goldoni,"  as 
they  affectionately  style  him.  While  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  detail  here  the  vast  mass  of  admirable  literature 
concerning  him  that  has  been  published  in  Italy, 
notably  in  1907,  when  the  second  centenary  of  his 
birth  was  celebrated  throughout  the  Peninsula,  atten- 
tion should  be  called  to  the  definitive  edition  of  his 
works  now  being  issued  by  the  Municipality  of 
Venice  under  the  editorship  of  MM.  Edgardo  Mad- 
dalena,  Cesare  Musatti,  Giuseppe  Occioni-Bonaf- 
fons,  Federico  Pellegrini,  Angelo  Scrinzi,  and  Giu- 
seppe Ortolani,  most  of  whom  in  previous  books  and 
articles  have  written  both  ably  and  copiously  upon 
the  dramatist  and  his  works.  To  the  names  of  these 
writers  and  editors  should  be  added  those  of  MM. 
Guido  Mazzoni,  Dino  Mantovani,  Vittorio  Mala- 
mani,  Ferdinando  Galanti,  Luigi  Rasi,  Alessandro 
D'Ancona,  Ernesto  Masi,  Carlo  Borghi,  and  Angelo 
De  Gubernatis,  some  dead,  others  still  living,  yet 
all  ardent  Goldonists,  whose  work,  invaluable  to  stu- 
dents, has  enriched  the  literature  of  Italy. 

A  feature  which  should  prove  of  value  to  the 
student  is  the  catalogue  of  Goldoni's  plays,  libretti, 
and  miscellaneous  writings,  to  be  found  in  Appendix 
A,  (page  60 1 ) .  Arranged  chronologically,  this  cata- 
logue gives  the  present,  as  well  as  the  original,  titles 
of  the  plays,  their  sources  and  salient  aspects,  and  is, 
I  believe,  the  most  comprehensive  outline  of  Gol- 


PREFACE 


xy 


doni's  works  yet  published.  While  preparing  the 
material  for  this  book,  I  compiled  for  my  own  use  a 
card  index  containing  a  summary  of  each  of  the 
comedies,  together  with  its  dramatis  personae,  its  dis- 
tinctive characteristics,  and  the  approximate  date  of 
its  first  production.  When  engaged  in  this  work,  I 
was  much  hampered  by  the  lack  of  any  trustworthy 
list  of  Goldoni's  plays.  I  saw,  however,  that  the  fre- 
quent inaccuracies  of  his  memoirs,  as  well  as  the  con- 
flicting evidence  of  contemporary  documents,  would 
make  its  preparation  an  onerous  undertaking,  requir- 
ing for  its  accomplishment  months  or  even  years  of 
careful  research.  Not  wishing  to  retard  unduly  my 
biographical  work,  I  asked  Dr.  F.  C.  L.  van  Steen- 
deren,  Professor  of  the  Romance  languages  in  Lake 
Forest  College,  to  prepare  such  a  chronological  cata- 
logue of  the  plays  as  my  experience  had  shown  me 
to  be  sorely  needed.  The  patience,  zeal,  and  scholar- 
ship displayed  by  him  soon  convinced  me  that  he 
possessed  every  quality  necessary  for  the  fulfilment 
of  this  arduous  task;  therefore  I  felt  warranted  in 
entrusting  it  plenarily  to  him.  The  scholarly  cata- 
logue he  has  devised  is  so  entirely  his  own  work,  that 
I  take  sincere  pleasure  in  giving  him  the  fully  mer- 
ited credit  for  its  preparation,  as  well  as  for  that  of 
the  accompanying  biographical  chronology  and 
bibliography,  which  have  also  been  prepared  by  him. 
I  should,  in  further  justice,  add  that  I  have  profited 
by  Professor  van  Steenderen's  chronological  re- 
searches, and  that  I  have  sought  his  philological  ad- 


xvi  PREFACE 

vice  regarding  the  translation  of  obscure  Italian  or 
dialectic  passages  I  have  wished  to  quote. 

A  word  regarding  the  illustrations.  The  frontis- 
piece is  the  portrait  of  Goldoni  by  Alessandro 
Longhi ;  the  others  are  reproductions  of  paintings  by 
this  artist's  father,  Pietro  Longhi,  whose  pictures, 
like  Goldoni's  plays,  present  faithfully  and  genially 
the  life  of  Venice  during  the  years  of  her  decadence. 
Pietro  Longhi  has  been  called  the  Venetian  Ho- 
garth ;  yet  his  work  is  less  pessimistic  than  the  Eng- 
lishman's, his  aim  having  been  to  arouse  a  smile 
rather  than  to  point  a  cynical  moral.  In  the  words  of 
Signor  Aldo  Rava,  his  biographer:  "His  genius  is 
daintily  exquisite,  and  indulgent  of  the  human  foibles 
which  present  it  with  so  many  acceptable  subjects; 
though  he  never  lays  bare,  as  does  Hogarth  both 
often  and  harshly,  either  the  sores  or  the  wickedness 
of  contemporary  life."  It  has  seemed  peculiarly  ap- 
propriate to  illustrate  this  biography  with  the  brush- 
work  of  a  contemporary  who  portrayed  upon  canvas 
the  life  of  eighteenth-century  Venice  as  minutely  and 
indulgently  as  Goldoni  pictured  it  upon  the  stage. 

For  providing  me  with  proof-sheets  of  the  valuable 
note  storiche  of  the  edition  of  Goldoni's  plays  being 
published  by  the  Municipality  of  Venice,  as  well  as 
for  the  continued  and  kindly  interest  he  has  taken 
in  my  work,  I  am  greatly  beholden  to  Professor  Ed- 
gardo  Maddalena  of  Vienna.  While  gathering  my 
material  I  was  graciously  aided  by  the  late  Dr.  Carlo 
Malagola,  State  Archivist  of  Venice,  Signor  Luigi 


PREFACE 


xvn 


Ferro,  his  assistant,  and  Dr.  Angelo  Scrinzi,  Director 
of  the  Museo  Civico ;  during  a  sojourn  in  Venice,  or 
since  my  return  to  my  own  country,  I  have  received 
helpful  civilities  from  His  Excellency,  Baron  Mayor 
des  Planches,  formerly  Ambassador  of  Italy  to  the 
United  States,  Count  Bolognesi,  Italian  Consul  in 
Chicago,  Professor  Giuseppe  Ortolani,  Dr.  Cesare 
Musatti,  Dr.  Tomaso  Sandonnini,  Professor  Gil- 
berto  Secretant,  Professor  Italico  Brass,  Com- 
mendatore  Ferdinand  Ongania,  and  Mr.  George  Pea- 
body  Eustis.  To  my  colleagues,  Mr.  Henry  B. 
Fuller  and  Mr.  Wallace  Rice,  I  am  indebted  for 
fraternal  assistance  in  reading  the  proofs ;  and  to  Mr. 
Rice  for  technical  suggestions  regarding  the  metrical 
translations,  the  versification  in  one  instance  (page 
463)  being  his. 

I  wish  to  take  this  opportunity  to  thank  these  Ital- 
ian and  American  gentlemen  for  their  courtesy,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  express  to  them  my  appreciation 
of  the  encouragement  and  help  they  have  extended  to 
me  during  the  writing  of  this  book. 

H.  C.  C-T. 
Lake  Forest,  Illinois, 

September  first,  1913. 


GOLD  ONI 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH 

IN  one  of  the  sunlit  squares  of  Venice  stands 
the  pleasing  statue  of  a  man,  dressed  in  the 
fashion  of  the  eighteenth  century.  His  right 
hand  grasps  the  round  head  of  a  cane;  his  left  is 
carelessly  folded  behind  his  back;  a  few  sheets  of 
paper,  possibly  an  act  of  a  comedy,  protrude  from 
his  pocket,  and  his  foot  is  advanced  as  if  he  were 
taking  a  leisurely  step  toward  the  Rialto  hard  by. 
The  smile  on  the  round  face  beaming  beneath  the 
periwig  and  the  three-cornered  hat  of  this  man  of 
long  ago,  is  so  genial  that  the  most  casual  tourist  will 
tarry  to  admire,  even  though  the  name  "Goldoni,"  on 
the  base  of  the  statue,  be  meaningless  to  him.  Ob- 
scured though  his  reputation  may  be  abroad,  in 
Venice  this  genius  of  Italian  comedy  is  "Gran  Gol- 
doni," most  beloved  of  her  children ;  and  it  is  meet 
that  his  statue  should  adorn  one  of  those  little  Vene- 
tian squares  whose  life  he  translated  so  inimitably  to 
the  stage. 

The  smile  the  sculptor  has  portrayed  is  typical 
of  this  gentle  lover  of  mankind.  Born  in  Venice  at 
the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century,  he  died  in 
Paris  while  the  drums  of  the  Revolution  were  beat- 

3 


4  GOLDONI 

ing  the  reveille  of  freedom;  yet,  though  the  pikes  of 
a  new  order  gleamed  beneath  his  humble  window 
and  the  air  of  his  adopted  land  was  rent  by  curses 
on  the  regime  he  had  served,  he  died  as  he  had  lived 
— a  kindly  man  of  "the  merry  century." 

It  was  the  century  of  reason  as  well  as  of  merri- 
ment: though  when  her  satiated  neighbours  forswore 
enjoyment  to  prate  of  human  rights,  Italy  sighed 
and  sang,  and  when  conquerors  bled  her,  to  deaden 
the  pain  she  jingled  her  merry  carnival  bells.  In 
that  listless  land  there  was,  however,  one  proud  city 
that  had  never  bowed  to  Guelph  or  Ghibelline,  nor 
been  ravaged  by  the  armies  of  France  and  Austria; 
for  in  Venice  a  doge  of  native  blood  still  ruled. 
There  the  three  Inquisitors  and  the  Council  of  Ten 
still  sat  in  their  imposing  robes  of  state;  there  im- 
peachments were  still  dropped  stealthily  into  the 
Lion's  Mouth,  while  cloaked  spies  lurked  in  the 
shadow  of  the  walls;  the  manners,  laws,  and  cus- 
toms of  Venice,  matured  during  thirteen  centuries 
of  self-government,  being  still  uncontaminated  by 
modern  influences.  Yet  Venice  was  no  longer  the 
lusty  city  she  had  been  in  her  prime,  the  League  of 
Cambrai  and  Turkish  valour  having  shorn  her  of 
her  strength,  the  rust  of  luxury  having  stolen  in  to 
corrupt.  Though  the  oarsmen  of  her  gilded  ship  of 
state,  Bucentaur,  were  still  clad  in  red  velvet  and 
gold  lace,  she  was  feeble  with  old  age.  Yet,  because 
of  her  independence  and  her  freedom  from  papal 
influence,  she  was  unique  among  Italian  states.  No- 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  5 

where  else  in  the  Peninsula  was  life  so  animated,  no- 
where else  were  there  so  many  bright  intellects,  such 
refinement  and  good-fellowship;  no  other  city  was 
so  pleasure-loving,  not  even  Paris.  Fear,  however, 
as  well  as  revelry,  had  sapped  her  strength.  Her 
territories  on  the  mainland  had  dwindled  to  a  few 
contiguous  towns,  and  the  Turk  had  finally  wrested 
from  her  all  but  the  illusion  of  her  colonial  great- 
ness, tinging  with  irony  these  haughty  words  pro- 
nounced by  her  Doge  when,  on  Ascension  Day,  amid 
the  flashing  of  gilded  oars  and  the  fluttering  of  hand- 
kerchiefs and  fans,  he  cast  her  golden  wedding-ring 
into  the  fickle  sea : 

"Desponsamus  te,  mare,  in  signum  veri  perpetui- 
que  dominii" 

Her  corrupt  society  squandered  the  nights 
in  dancing  and  gambling  at  the  Ridotto,1  and 
frittered  the  days  away  in  ladies'  boudoirs;  her 
joyous  people  were  ever  in  the  streets,  laughing  at 
dull  care,  for  Venice,  ruled  by  Folly  in  bright  rib- 
bons and  bells,  was  perpetually  reeling  with  joy  and 
mad  caprice.  Indeed,  there  was  scarcely  a  day  when 
a  saint  was  not  honoured  or  a  hero  glorified;  scarcely 
a  day  when  the  balconies  along  the  Grand  Canal  were 
not  hung  with  cloth  of  gold  and  rich  tapestries. 
But  the  most  joyous  holiday  was  the  Carnival,  when 
every  one,  from  doge  to  soubrette,  went  masked, 

1The  Ridotto  (assembly  room),  a  public  casino  and  gaming-house, 
opened  in  1638,  was  run  as  a  government  concession  in  an  effort  to  over- 
come the  abuses  of  private  gambling.  Its  rooms  were  closed  permanently 
Nov.  27,  1774,  and  turned  into  government  offices. 


6  GOLDONI 

humoured  and  protected  by  the  State  in  saying  and 
doing  anything  that  might  give  pleasure — the  Car- 
nival, alive  during  the  autumn  in  spirit,  when  mask- 
ing was  permitted,  and  actually  lasting  from  Christ- 
mas until  Lent.  Enervated  by  wealth  and  a  luxury 
too  long  enjoyed,  Venice  in  the  eighteenth  century 
was  indeed  a  conscienceless  city,  the  casuistry  of  her 
Jesuits  having  shorn  vice  of  compunction;  yet  she 
was  not  a  Sodom  in  a  worthy  land,  since  throughout 
the  Peninsula,  and  the  rest  of  Europe  as  well,  moral 
delinquencies  obtained,  sometimes  in  an  even  greater 
degree. 

Only  in  the  haunts  of  trade,  where  the  merchants 
of  Venice  counted  their  ducats  behind  iron-barred 
windows,  was  there  se^^jpess  and  worth.  These 
thrifty  men  lamented  ^re  departed  glory  of  their 
city,  and  shook  their  grey  heads  ominously,  when  the 
carnival  noises  echoed  from  a  neighbouring 
piazzetta.  But  they  were  fewer  in  number  and 
poorer  than  their  ancestors  had  been  in  the  days 
when  the  argosies  of  Venice  brought  to  her  road- 
stead the  wealth  of  the  Orient,  when  the  Honed  ban- 
ner of  St.  Mark  floated  over  Cyprus  and  the  Morea, 
Candia  and  the  Cyclades — ay,  even  above  the  walls 
of  Athens  and  Byzantium. 

An  age  is  reflected  by  its  art,  and  the  art  of  Italy 
during  "this  century  of  incapacity  and  indolence" 
was  as  feeble  and  flippant  as  its  enervated  society; 
for  whenever  an  effeminate  coterie  styling  itself 
L'Arcadia  lolled  in  the  shade  of  the  Bosco  Parrasio 


CARNIVAL  MASKERS 


Musco    Correr 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  7 

near  Rome  or  foregathered  in  some  stuffy  drawing- 
room,  it  made  a  languorous  mockery  of  literature, 
almost  as  flaccid  as  the  emasculation  that  permitted 
its  men  to  philander  and  frame  affected  verses,  while 
foreign  armies  tyrannized  over  their  land.  Only  in 
free  Venice  was  the  art  not  contemptible,  for  here 
a  spirit  akin  to  nationality  inspired  the  pens  of  stern 
Apostolo  Zeno  and  testy  Carlo  Gozzi,  as  well  as  the 
brushes  of  Tiepolo,  the  dazzling  idealist  of  that  age, 
of  La  Rosalba,  its  amorous  portraitist,  and  of  Longhi, 
its  minute  interpreter.  Tiepolo  adorned  the  domes 
and  ceilings  of  Venice  with  religious  and  profane 
myths,  limpid  in  atmosphere  and  radiant  with  light; 
La  Rosalba  and  Longhi  hung  on  its  walls  pictures  of 
itself,  the  brush  of  the  one  disclosing  the  languor 
of  its  boudoirs,  that  of  the  other,  the  vivacity  of  its 
streets. 

In  the  canvases  of  Pietro  Longhi,  the  care-free 
life  of  Venice  in  the  merry  eighteenth  century  is 
portrayed  minutely,  scarcely  a  phase  of  it,  from  the 
Ridotto  with  its  brazen  crowd  to  the  humblest 
tavern,  being  slighted  by  his  dextrous  hand;  but 
while  this  little  Venetian  Hogarth  delved  into  every 
corner  of  "the  city  of  whims,"  another  and  a  greater 
artist  strolled  through  its  streets,  studying  its  people 
and  their  customs  in  order  that  he,  too,  might  por- 
tray its  life.  This  artist  was  Carlo  Goldoni,  the 
dramatist  whose  genial  statue  2  now  adorns  the  little 
Venetian  square  of  San  Bartolomeo,  scarcely  a 

2  Modelled  by  Antonio  Dal  Zatto  and  unveiled  in  1883. 


8  GOLDONI 

stone's  throw  from  the  Rialto — busy  centre  of  the 
joyous  life  he  pictured  in  words. 

On  February  25th,  1707,  while  the  merry  din  of  a 
waning  carnival  was  echoing  through  the  streets, 
Goldoni  came  into  the  care-free  world  of  Venice, 
in  a  "palazzo"  of  the  narrow  Calle  di  Ca  Cent'  anni, 
"a  large  and  beautiful  house,"  as  he  calls  it  in  his 
guileless  memoirs,3  situated  in  the  Parish  of  S. 
Toma,  between  the  bridge  of  Nomboli  that  for- 
merly spanned  the  quiet  canaletto  before  its  door 
and  that  of  Donna  Onesta.  The  graceful  facade  of 
this  four-storied  palazzo  presents  to  the  passer-by 
of  to-day  an  air  of  former  respectability  and  com- 
fort that  does  not  belie  the  state  of  Goldoni's  parents 
at  the  time  when  he  was  born. 

About  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century  a 
family  flourished  at  Modena  whose  surname, 
Guldoni,  as  it  was  formerly  spelled,  is  found  in 
Modenese  records  as  far  back  as  1401. 4  Its 
head  was  Francesco  Maria  Guldoni,  a  violinist 
in  the  orchestra  of  the  Duke  of  Parma.  He  married 
a  girl  named  Virginia  Barilli,  three  sons  and  a 
daughter  being  born  to  them,  called  respectively 
Carlo  Alessandro,  Alberto,  Luigi,  and  Antonia,  the 
first  of  whom  was  our  dramatist's  paternal  grand- 
father. 

3  Memoir es  de  M.  Goldoni  pour  servir  a  I'histoire  de  sa  vie,  et  a  celle 
de  son  theatre,  from  which  the  quotations  in  these  pages,  not  otherwise 
indicated,  are  made. 

4  A.  G.  Spinelli  and  E.  P.  Vicini,  in  Modena  a  Carlo  Goldoni,  trace  the 
dramatist's  descent  from  a  certain  Francesco  Guldoni,  who  died  in   1584, 
the  name  Guldoni  occurring  in  records,  however,  as  far  back  as  1401. 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  9 

The  family  of  which  Carlo  Alessandro  was  a 
member,  had  been  since  the  sixteenth  century  in  easy 
circumstances.  His  maternal  uncle  was  councillor 
of  state  to  the  Duke  of  Modena,  and  Carlo  Ales- 
sandro himself  was  educated  at  Parma,  in  a  college 
which  numbered  among  its  pupils  many  sons  of  the 
nobility.  His  own  parents  must,  therefore,  have 
been  well-to-do  and  respected.  Furthermore,  when 
he  left  Modena  to  become  a  resident  of  Venice,  he 
is  said  to  have  been  "loved  and  esteemed  not  only 
by  everybody,  but  by  the  Court  as  well."  His 
brother,  it  may  be  added,  became  a  colonel  in  the 
army  of  the  Duke  of  Modena,  and  later  command- 
ant at  Finale. 

"Two  noble  Venetians  with  whom  he  had  been 
at  school  in  Parma"  had  urged  Carlo  Alessandro 
Goldoni,  so  his  grandson  tells  us,  to  remove  to 
Venice,5  and  there  he  obtained  through  their  in- 
fluence "a  very  honourable  and  lucrative  appoint- 
ment" in  the  office  of  the  Five  Commercial  Sages,  a 
body  originally  instituted  to  assist  and  supervise  com- 
merce, but  which,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  had  be- 
come a  tribunal  for  the  adjudication  of  disputes  be- 
tween oriental  residents  in  Venice. 

Before  he  reached  Venice,  Carlo  Alessandro  had 

5  The  year  of  Carlo  Alessandro's  removal  to  Venice  is  unknown.  His 
son,  Giulio,  Goldoni's  father,  who,  the  dramatist  says,  was  born  in  Venice, 
was  twenty  years  old  in  1703,  which  would  indicate  that  Carlo  Alessandro 
had  moved  to  Venice  prior  to  the  year  1683,  a  theory  authenticated  by  the 
fact  that  he  assisted  in  receiving  the  Duke  of  Modena,  Francesco  II,  when 
the  latter  visited  Venice  during  that  year.  Modena  a  Carlo  Goldoni,  and 
//  Padre  di  Goldoni,  by  A.  Lazzari. 


io  GOLDONI 

already  married  (1670)  a  Paduan  lady  named  Cat- 
terina  Pasini,  and  their  son,  Giulio  Goldoni,  born  in 
Venice  about  the  year  1683,  was  tne  dramatist's 
father.6 

In  his  memoirs,  Goldoni  states  that  "his  grand- 
father married  'en  premieres  noces'  Mademoiselle 
Barilli,  and  that  his  second  wife  was  a  respectable 
widow  with  two  daughters,  belonging  to  the 
Salvioni  family";  the  dramatist's  father,  Giulio 
Goldoni,  having  married  the  elder  of  his  step-sisters, 
"a  pretty  brunette,  who  limped  a  little  and  who  was 
very  piquante."  Yet  Hermann  von  Lohner7  points 
out  that  there  are  documents  in  the  archives  of  the 
Curia  patriarcale  to  show  that  Carlo  Alessandro 
married  neither  a  Barilli  nor  a  Salvioni,  his  first  wife 
being  Catterina  Pasini,  and  his  second,  whom  he 
married  in  1699,  Marta  Cappini  of  Peschiera,  who 
lived  in  Venice.  Barilli,  however,  was  the  maiden 
name  of  the  dramatist's  great-grandmother,  and 
Salvioni  that  of  his  mother. 

It  is  easier  to  believe  that  Goldoni,  writing  his 
memoirs  at  the  age  of  eighty,  should  have  mistaken 
the  maiden  name  of  his  great-grandmother  for  that 
of  his  grandmother,  than  that  he  should  have  been 
guilty  of  misstating  that  his  father  married  his  step- 

6  This  is  Von  Lohner's  statement.     A.  G.  Spinelli,  however,  says  that  in 
1670  he  had  already  lost  his  second  wife.     (Modena  a  Carlo   Goldoni.} 
Since  Carlo  Alessandro  was  born  in  1645,  and  was  therefore  twenty-five 
years  of  age  in  1670,  Von  Lohner's  statement  is  probably  correct. 

7  Memoir es  de  M.   Goldoni,  corrected  and  annotated  by  Hermann  von 
Lohner. 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  u 

sister.  Possibly  Salvioni  was  the  name  of  the  first 
husband  of  the  Marta  who  was  Carlo  Alessandro's 
second  wife,  and  Cappini  that  of  her  own  family. 8 
Yet  of  far  more  interest  than  the  correct  maiden 
name  of  Carlo  Alessandro's  second  wife,  is  the 
prodigal  and  pleasure-loving  nature  of  that  good 
man,  the  dramatist  having  inherited  many  of  the 
traits  he  thus  ascribes  to  his  grandfather: 

He  was  a  worthy  man,  but  in  no  wise  economical,  and  being 
fond  of  pleasure  he  readily  adapted  himself  to  Venetian  gaiety. 
He  had  rented  a  fine  country  house  belonging  to  the  Duke  of 
Massa-Carrara,  on  the  Sile,  in  the  Marca  Trevigiana,  about  six 
leagues  from  Venice;  and  there  he  led  a  merry  life.  The  neigh- 
bouring landowners  could  not  endure  having  Goldoni  invite  vil- 
lagers and  strangers  to  his  home,  and  one  of  his  neighbours  took 
steps  to  oust  him  from  his  house,  but  my  grandfather  went  to  Car- 
rara and  leased  all  the  properties  the  Duke  possessed  in  the  State 
of  Venice.  Returning  home  proud  of  his  victory,  he  increased 
his  expenditures.  He  gave  comedy  and  opera  at  his  house,  all  the 
best  actors  and  celebrated  musicians  being  at  his  command,  and  his 
guests  coming  from  all  quarters.  I  was  born  in  the  midst  of  this 
riot  and  luxury.  Was  it  possible  for  me  to  scorn  theatrical  enter- 
tainments? Was  it  possible  for  me  not  to  love  gaiety? 

According  to  Goldoni,  this  merry  and  typical 
Venetian  spendthrift  died  in  1712,  his  second  wife 
soon  following  him  to  the  grave.  Yet  Hermann  von 
Lohner  and  Carlo  Borghi,9  the  most  assiduous 
students  who  have  investigated  Goldoni's  early  life, 
agree  in  their  belief  that  Carlo  Alessandro  died  about 

8  A  surmise  concurring  with  that  of  A.  G.  Spinelli  and  E.  P.  Vicini. 
(Modena  a  Carlo  Goldoni.} 

8  Hermann  von  Lohner,  op.  cit.,  and  Carlo  Borghi,  Memorie  sulla  vita  di 
Carlo  Goldoni. 


12  GOLDONI 

1703,  and  that  his  wife  had  died  previous  to  that 
year;  therefore  the  riot  and  luxury  into  which  the 
dramatist  was  born  were  probably  instigated  by  his 
father,  a  surmise  according  with  Goldoni's  own 
statement  that  "his  father's  education  was  not  what 
it  ought  to  have  been."  "He  did  not  lack  intelli- 
gence," he  adds ;  "but  he  had  not  been  properly  cared 
for.  He  could  not  retain  his  father's  post,  which  a 
clever  Greek  was  able  to  wrest  from  him."  More- 
over, he  apparently  did  his  best  to  spoil  his  son,  since 
he  ordered  a  puppet-show  to  be  built  for  him  when 
he  was  but  four  years  old,  which  he  manipulated 
himself  with  the  assistance  of  three  or  four  friends. 
Indeed,  both  the  dramatist's  parents  were  fondly  in- 
dulgent, as  Goldoni  thus  indicates : 

My  mother  brought  me  into  the  world  with  little  pain,  and  this 
increased  her  love  for  me ;  my  first  appearance  was  not,  as  is  usual, 
announced  by  cries,  and  this  gentleness  seemed  an  indication  of  the 
pacific  character  which  from  that  day  on  I  have  ever  preserved. 
I  was  the  idol  of  the  house;  my  mother  taking  charge  of  my  edu- 
cation, and  my  father  of  my  amusements. 

Whether  Goldoni's  grandfather  was  alone  respon- 
sible for  the  dissipation  of  the  family  fortune,  or 
whether  Giulio  Goldoni  continued  the  prodigal  life 
his  father,  Carlo  Alessandro,  had  inaugurated,  until 
"the  freehold  property  of  the  family  in  Modena  was 
sold,  and  the  entailed  property  mortgaged,"  is  a 
matter  of  slight  importance  in  comparison  with  the 
cruel  fact  that,  through  extravagance  and  riotous  liv- 
ing, the  fortune  became  so  reduced  during  the  dram- 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  13 

atist's  childhood,  that  "its  sole  possession  was  the 
Venetian  property  of  his  mother  and  aunt."  Signer 
Lazzari 10  insists,  in  fact,  that  Goldoni  was  not  born 
"in  the  midst  of  the  riot  and  luxury"  of  his  grand- 
parents' house,  but  "in  very  modest  surroundings.'7 
In  any  event,  the  family  became  impoverished,  and 
its  burdens  were  heightened  by  the  birth  of  another 
son  named  Gian  Paolo,11  destined  to  become  a  thorn 
in  its  side.  "Embarrassed  by  financial  losses"  and 
"oppressed  by  melancholy,"  Giulio  Goldoni,  the 
dramatist's  father,  left  his  hearth-side  and  went  to 
Rome  where,  on  the  advice  of  a  Venetian  friend 
named  Alessandro  Bonicelli,  he  studied  medicine 
under  Giovanni  Lancisi,  the  physician  of  Pope  Cle- 
ment XL12  When  he  had  obtained  his  doctor's  de- 
gree,13 he  settled  in  Perugia,  where  he  practised 
medicine. 

Though  he  pursued  his  studies  to  the  worthy  end 
of  earning  a  livelihood,  Giulio  Goldoni  deserted  an 
estimable  wife,  whom  he  left  in  Venice  with  her  two 
children  and  her  sister,  to  brave  the  reverses  in  the 

10  Op.  cit. 

11  Hermann  von  Lohner,  op.  cit.,  and  Carlo  Goldoni  e  le  sue  memoire, 
notes  that  a  Gian  Paolo  Goldoni  was  born  Oct.  i,  1709,  and  baptized  in  the 
Parish  Church  of  S.  Toma  five  days  later;  another  Gian  Paolo  being  born 
Jan.  10,  1712,  and  baptized  on  the  i6th  of  that  month,  also  in  the  church  of 
S.  Toma;  facts  which  indicate  that  the  former  died  in  infancy,  and  that 
the  latter,  the  brother  of  whom  Goldoni  makes  frequent  mention  in  his 
memoirs,  was  given  the  same  name — Gian  Paolo — or  Giampaolo,  as  it  is 
frequently  written. 

12  According   to   Carlo  Borghi    (op.   cit.),   he   first  studied   medicine   in 
Modena  in  1704,  under  Francesco  Tarti. 

13  Arnaldo  Delia  Torre  (Sagglo  dl  una  bibliografia  delle  opere  intorno 
a  Carlo  Goldoni)  places  the  conferring  of  this  degree  in  the  year  1718. 


14  GOLDONI 

family  fortunes,  Margherita  Salvioni,  the  drama- 
tist's mother,  being,  as  he  informs  us,  "pious,  but  not 
bigoted,"  while  on  another  occasion  he  speaks  of  her 
as  "that  tender  mother  who  always  caressed  me,  but 
never  complained  of  me."  When  her  husband  went 
to  Rome,  she  farmed  out  Gian  Paolo,  her  youngest 
son,  and  busied  herself  solely  with  the  future  genius 
of  Italian  comedy,  who  was  "gentle,  quiet,  and 
obedient,"  he  assures  us,  and  able  to  read  and  write 
at  the  age  of  four,  when  his  education  was  entrusted 
to  a  tutor.  He  was  fond  of  books,  and  as  his  mother 
"gave  herself  no  concern"  about  his  choice  of  them, 
he  delighted  in  the  comedies  he  found  in  his  father's 
library,  those  of  Cicognini  being  his  "preference." 
At  the  age  of  eleven,14  he  had  "the  presumption" 
to  write  a  comedy,  the  following  being  his  account 
of  this  precocious  commencement  of  his  life-work: 

My  aunt  laughed  at  me,  my  mother  both  scolded  and  caressed 
me,  my  tutor  affirmed  that  it  contained  more  wit  and  common 
sense  than  was  compatible  with  my  age;  but  the  most  singular 

14  In  his  memoirs  and  in  the  preface  to  Vol.  I  of  the  Pasquali  edition, 
Goldoni  says  he  was  eight  years  of  age,  when  he  wrote  this  comedy.  In 
the  preface  to  Vol.  II  of  the  Pasquali  edition,  however,  he  says  that  he 
was  nine  at  the  time.  In  the  same  preface,  as  well  as  in  the  Memoirs,  he 
says  that  as  soon  as  his  father  in  Perugia  became  aware  of  his  eldest 
son's  "happy  faculties,"  he  sent  for  him.  In  the  preface  to  Vol.  Ill  of 
the  same  edition,  he  says  that  he  was  twelve  when  he  acted  in  a  play  at 
Perugia,  and  that  this  was  in  the  year  he  had  honours  in  Latin.  Since 
he  arrived  in  Perugia  "in  the  middle  of  the  course  of  the  stagione"  and 
gained  his  Latin  honours  at  the  end  of  it,  he  must  have  been  twelve  years 
old  not  more  than  a  year  after  he  arrived  in  Perugia.  This  would  make 
the  age  at  which  he  wrote  his  first  comedy  eleven,  or  a  trifle  less,  but  cer- 
tainly not  the  age  of  eight,  given  in  the  Memoirs,  a  view  in  which  A. 
Delia  Torre  and  Guido  Mazzoni  concur. 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  15 

thing  was  that  my  godfather,  a  lawyer,  richer  in  money  than  in 
knowledge,  would  not  believe  that  it  was  my  work.  He  main- 
tained that  it  had  been  revised  and  corrected  by  my  tutor,  who 
considered  this  opinion  shameful;  but  luckily,  when  the  dispute 
was  w%xing  warm,  ...  a  third  person  made  his  appearance, 
who  was  able  to  pacify  them,  ...  a  friend  of  the  family, 
who,  having  seen  me  at  work  on  the  play,  bore  witness  to  my 
puerilities  and  flashes  of  wit. 

This  "childish  folly,"  as  Goldoni  calls  it,  after 
going  the  rounds  of  his  mother's  friends,  was  read 
by  his  father,  who  was  so  pleased  by  his  son's 
precocity,  that  he  insisted  upon  his  joining  him  in 
Umbria,  a  demand  to  which  his  wife  reluctantly  con- 
ceded, when  a  worthy  priest,  who  was  a  friend  of  the 
family,  consented  to  take  young  Carlo  with  him  on 
a  journey  he  contemplated  making  to  Perugia.  On 
the  way  to  that  pleasing  hill-town,  our  ambitious 
young  Venetian  rode  a  horse  for  the  first  time,  an 
experience  he  thus  describes: 

They  laid  hold  of  me  by  the  middle,  and  threw  me  into  the 
saddle.  Bless  me!  Boots,  stirrups,  whip  and  bridle!  What  was 
to  be  done  with  all  these  things?  I  was  tossed  about  like  a  sack, 
the  reverend  father  laughed  heartily,  the  servants  ridiculed  me, 
and  I  laughed  at  myself ;  but  by  degrees  I  got  acquainted  with  my 
nag,  whom  I  regaled  with  bread  and  fruit  until  he  became  my 
friend,  and  in  six  days'  time  we  arrived  at  Perugia, 

There,  at  the  age  of  twelve,  he  was  placed  by  his 
father  in  a  Jesuit  school  where,  according  to  his  own 
story,  he  passed  the  first  term's  examination  at  the 
head  of  the  primary  class,  and  was  promoted  to  a 
higher  grade;  yet  in  the  records  of  the  institution  his 


16  GOLDONI 

name  appears  among  those  who  were  plucked.15 
More  patent  than  his  aptitude  for  study  during  this 
sojourn  in  Perugia  is  his  love  for  the  stage,  a  taste 
his  indulgent  father  apparently  shared,  since  during 
the  school  vacation  Dr.  Goldoni  obtained  the  use  of 
a  hall  in  the  Palazzo  Antinori,  where,  under  his 
direction,  his  son  and  some  schoolmates  performed  a 
comedy,16  young  Carlo  playing  a  female  part,  and 
speaking  the  prologue  so  successfully  that  he  was 
nearly  blinded  by  a  "bushel  of  sugar-plums"  with 
which  he  was  "overwhelmed,"  that  being  "the  com- 
mon form  of  applause  in  the  Papal  States."  His 
father  thought  that  he  showed  "considerable  intelli- 
gence," but  was  convinced  that  he  would  "never  make 
a  good  actor."  "And  he  was  not  mistaken,"  Goldoni 
remarks  laconically. 

Unable  to  endure  the  separation  from  her  eldest 
son,  Margherita  Salvioni  finally  moved  to  Perugia, 
but,  accustomed  as  she  was  to  the  mild  climate  of 
Venice,  the  bracing  air  of  the  Appennines  prevented 
her  from  enjoying  in  Umbria  "a  single  day  of  good 
health."  His  Perugian  patron  having  died,  and  the 

15  A.  Valeri,  Una,  bugia  di  Carlo  Goldoni,  in  La  Rassegna  inter  nazionale, 
vol.  VIII,  1902. 

16  La  Sorellina  di  Don  Pilone,  by  Girolamo  Gigli,  whom  Giulio  Caprin 
styles  "the  only  Italian  writer  of  comedy  before  Goldoni  who  had  a  correct 
intuition   of   dramatic   art."     In  regard   to  this  performance   it   should  be 
noted  that  while  in  his  memoirs  Goldoni  gives  to  his  father  the  credit  of 
inaugurating  it,  saying  among  other  things  that  it  was  he  who  had  the 
stage  built,  in  the  preface  to  Vol.  Ill  of  the  Pasquali  edition  he  says: 
"The  work   (prologue)  was  by  the  master  of  the  house   (Antinori)   who 
had  the  stage  built,  and  who  defrayed  all  the  expenses  for  the  sole  glory 
of  having  the  audience  enjoy  his  exquisite  style." 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  17 

local  physicians  having  begun  "to  eye  him  jealously," 
Dr.  Goldoni  went  with  his  family  to  Rimini,  where  he 
tarried  long  enough  to  place  his  son  in  a  Dominican 
school ;  then  journeyed  to  Chioggia,  where  he  left  his 
wife  in  a  salubrious  climate,  while  he  went  to 
Modena  to  salvage  something  from  the  wreck  of  the 
family  fortunes. 

His  studies  of  the  humanities  and  rhetoric  having 
been  completed  in  Perugia,  young  Carlo,  destined, 
as  he  informs  us,  for  his  father's  profession,  was 
ostensibly  attending  at  Rimini  meanwhile,  the 
philosophical  lectures  of  a  Dominican  logician 
named  Candini.  A  mild  case  of  smallpox  gave  him 
a  legitimate  excuse  for  neglecting  his  studies,  but 
when  he  had  recovered  from  that  noisome  disease, 
Candini's  dull  lectures  drove  him  to  seek  distraction 
in  the  performances  of  a  troupe  of  strolling  players. 

Perugia  being  in  the  Papal  States,  women  were  not 
permitted  to  act  there ;  so  at  Rimini  he  saw  actresses 
for  the  first  time  and  found  that  they  "adorned  the 
stage  in  a  more  stimulating  way"  than  beardless 
youths.  Indeed,  so  alluring  were  those  of  Rimini 
that  he  left  the  'pit  where  he  had  gone  modestly  at 
first,  to  join  the  young  sparks  he  saw  loitering  in  the 
wings.  The  brazen  looks  he  received  in  return  for 
his  own  shy  glances  so  emboldened  him  that  soon 
he  was  enjoying  caresses  as  well,  for  when  the  ac- 
tresses learned  that  he  was  a  Venetian  like  them- 
selves, they  showered  him  with  attentions,  Florindo, 
their  manager,  even  inviting  him  to  dine.  Alas  for 


i8  GOLDONI 

dry  logic !  No  sooner  did  the  young  rascal  learn  that 
his  merry  friends  were  bound  for  Chioggia  than  a 
"longing  to  see  his  mother"  overcame  him,  so  intense 
that  in  spite  of  the  remonstrances  of  the  Riminian 
friends  of  his  family,  he  stuffed  two  shirts  and  a  night- 
cap into  his  pockets,  and  hid  himself  in  the  bows  of 
the  Thespian  barque;  with  the  connivance,  be  it 
added,  of  its  crew,  for  when  the  sails  were  set  and  he 
had  emerged  from  his  hiding-place,  he  was  welcomed 
by  laughing  lips  to  the  joyous  life  he  thus  depicts: 

My  actors  were  not  like  those  Scarron  describes;  yet  in  the 
aggregate  this  troupe  aboard-ship  presented  a  pleasing  sight.  A 
dozen  people — as  many  actors  as  actresses,  a  prompter,  a  stage 
carpenter,  a  property  man,  four  maids,  two  wet  nurses,  children  of 
all  ages,  dogs,  cats,  monkeys,  parrots,  birds,  pigeons,  and  a  lamb — 
it  was  Noah's  Ark.  The  boat  was  very  large  and  divided  into  a 
number  of  compartments,  each  woman  having  her  nook  hidden  by 
curtains;  a  bed  was  provided  for  me  beside  the  manager,  and 
we  were  all  comfortable. 

The  supercargo,  who  was  cook  and  steward  as  well,  rang  a  little 
bell  as  the  signal  for  breakfast,  whereupon  we  gathered  in  a  sort 
of  saloon  that  had  been  improvised  amidships  on  the  top  of  boxes, 
trunks,  and  bales,  and  there  on  an  oval  table  were  coffee,  tea,  milk, 
joints,  water,  and  wine.  The  leading  lady  demanded  soup. 
There  was  none;  whereat  she  flew  into  a  rage  and  was  only  paci- 
fied with  all  the  difficulty  in  the  world,  by  a  cup  of  chocolate,  she 
being  the  ugliest  and  the  most  exacting. 

After  breakfast  some  one  suggested  that  we  gamble  till  dinner 
time.  I  played  tresset  tolerably  well,  it  being  my  mother's  favourite 
game,  which  she  had  taught  me.  We  were  on  the  point  of  start- 
ing tresset  and  piquet,  but  a  faro  bank  that  had  been  opened  on 
the  main-deck  attracted  all  hands — more  a  source  of  amusement 
than  profit,  however,  as  the  manager  would  not  have  permitted  it 
to  be  otherwise. 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  19 

We  gambled,  laughed,  frolicked,  and  played  jokes  till  the  din- 
ner bell  rang;  then  rushed  to  the  table.  Macaroni!  We  fell 
upon  it  and  devoured  three  soup-tureens-full.  Beef  a  la  mode, 
cold  mutton,  a  loin  of  veal,  a  dessert,  and  a  first-rate  wine,  ah, 
what  a  good  dinner !  There  is  no  cheer  like  an  appetite. 

We  remained  four  hours  at  table,  playing  various  instruments 
and  singing  a  great  deal.  The  soubrette  sang  divinely;  I  eyed  her 
attentively  and  she  aroused  in  me  a  strange  sensation.  A  mishap, 
alas,  interrupted  the  pleasure  of  the  company.  A  cat  escaped  from 
its  cage.  It  was  the  leading  lady's  pussy,  and  she  called  on  all 
hands  for  help.  We  chased  it,  but  the  cat,  being  as  savage  as  its 
mistress,  skipped  and  leapt  about  and  hid  itself  everywhere;  find- 
ing itself  pursued,  it  clawed  up  the  mast.  Madame  Clarice 
fainted,  whereupon  a  sailor  went  up  the  rigging  to  catch  the  cat; 
but  it  jumped  into  the  sea  and  remained  there.  In  her  despair,  its 
mistress  wished  to  kill  every  animal  in  sight  and  even  to  throw  her 
maid  into  her  pussy's  watery  grave.  We  all  took  the  maid's  part 
and  when  the  quarrel  became  general,  the  manager  appeared,  to 
laugh  and  joke  and  pet  the  offended  woman,  until  at  last  she  began 
to  laugh  herself.  Thus  the  cat  was  forgotten. 

Enough,  I  am  convinced.  To  chat  longer  about  these  insig- 
nificant events  would  be  taking  an  unfair  advantage  of  the  reader. 
The  wind  was  fair;  we  were  at  sea  three  days,  enjoying  the  same 
amusements,  the  same  pleasures,  and  the  same  appetite.  On  the 
fourth  day  we  reached  Chioggia. 

Thus  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  Goldoni  was  initiated 
into  Bohemianism,  and  thus  a  lifelong  fondness  was 
engendered  in  his  heart,  for  he  confesses  that  ever 
afterwards  he  entertained  "a  preferential  taste  for 
soubrettes."  Yet  this  stage-struck  lad  was  not  wholly 
compunctionless.  With  Florindo,  the  manager,  as 
his  emissary,  he  obtained  his  mother's  forgiving  em- 
brace, and  when  a  letter  from  his  father  at  Modena 
announced  that  through  the  kind  offices  of  a  name- 


20  GOLDONI 

sake,  the  Marquis  Goldoni-Vidoni,17  a  scholarship 
had  been  obtained  for  him  in  the  Papal  College  at 
Pavia,  the  young  scapegrace  was  constrained  to 
realize  "the  imprudence  of  his  escapade";  his  con- 
science, however,  was  so  slightly  smitten  that,  when 
his  mother  forbade  him  the  theatre,  he  visited  the 
soubrette  instead. 

His  father  soon  returned  to  Chioggia,  fondly  ex- 
pectant that  certain  properties  in  Modena  might  yield 
enough  to  permit  the  family  to  live  comfortably;  a 
hope  that  made  him  forgive  more  readily  his  rascally 
first-born  for  decamping  from  school  with  a  band  of 
strolling  players.  Dr.  Goldoni,  moreover,  shared 
Carlo's  liking  for  actresses,  and  as  he  had  once  ad- 
mired the  leading  lady  of  Florindo's  troupe,  he  felt 
it  necessary,  when  pardoning  his  recalcitrant  son,  to 
thank  these  Thespians  for  their  hospitable  care  of 
him. 

Dr.  Goldoni  settled  in  Chioggia,  and  soon  had  a 
considerable  practice  among  both  rich  and  poor. 
His  incorrigible  first-born,  meanwhile,  was  roaming 
the  streets  while  awaiting  the  confirmation  of  his 
scholarship  at  Pavia.  To  keep  him  out  of  mischief, 
and  at  the  same  time  give  him  an  insight  into  the 
ways  of  his  future  calling,  his  father  decided  to  take 
him  with  him  on  his  professional  visits.  Being  called 
to  attend  a  young  woman  of  questionable  character, 

17Pietro  Goldoni  Vidoni  Ajmi,  Marquese  di  San  Raffaele  e  Signore  di 
Viliceto,  a  Milanese  Senator  and  Governor  of  Pavia,  whom  Dr.  Goldoni 
met  accidentally  in  the  latter  city  in  1721,  and  who  befriended  him  because 
he  was  a  namesake. 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  21 

whose  mother  was  her  go-between,  he  left  young 
Carlo  in  an  outer  room  while  he  treated  his  patient, — 
the  mother  making  hay,  meanwhile,  by  arranging  a 
rendezvous  between  the  lad  and  her  daughter.  By 
tracking  him  to  their  nest  before  they  had  had  time 
to  pluck  him,  a  family  servant  saved  this  conscience- 
less fledgling  from  the  claws  of  these  vampires,  but 
it  was  high  time  that  some  employment  be  found 
for  his  idle  hands. 

"I  was  naturally  joyous,"  Goldoni  tells  us,  "yet  sub- 
ject from  childhood  to  hypochondriacal  or  melan- 
cholic vapours."  Attacked  by  "this  lethargic  ill- 
ness" after  the  departure  of  his  Thespian  friends,  he 
vainly  sought  amusement  in  Chioggia,  until  he  be- 
came "gloomy  and  thoughtful"  and  "lost  weight  per- 
ceptibly." 

As  he  had  evinced  an  aversion  for  medicine,  it  was 
decided  at  a  family  council  that  he  should  study  law 
while  awaiting  the  time  of  his  matriculation  at  Pavia; 
whereupon  he  was  taken  to  Venice  by  his  mother, 
and  installed  in  the  law  office  of  Gian  Paolo  In- 
dric,  a  prominent  barrister  and  his  uncle  by  mar- 
riage. 

There  he  "discharged  his  duties  with  accuracy," 
and  "merited  his  uncle's  praise,"  but  found  time, 
nevertheless,  to  "avail  himself  of  the  pleasures  of  a 
residence  in  Venice,"  its  seven  theatres  being  his 
especial  delight.  Throughout  the  summer  of  1722, 
he  remained  in  the  city  of  the  lagoons,  and  in  the  au- 
tumn, accompanied  by  his  father,  he  set  out  for  Pavia, 


22  GOLDONI 

word  having  been  received  that  the  promised  scholar- 
ship had  been  awarded  him. 

In  Modena  the  journey  was  arrested  for  three  days 
to  enable  Dr.  Goldoni  to  collect  "certain  governmen- 
tal annuities  and  house  rents"  that  were  due  him,  a 
lucky  provision,  since  on  reaching  Milan  he  was  in- 
formed by  his  noble  benefactor  that  before  his  son 
could  enter  the  Ghislieri  College  at  Pavia,  a  papal  in- 
stitution, he  must  be  tonsured,  as  well  as  provided 
with  certificates  of  baptism,  celibacy,  and  good  moral 
character.  Having  had  no  premonition  of  these  re- 
quirements, father  and  son  were  forced  to  tarry  at 
Milan,  while  Madame  Goldoni  obtained  the  neces- 
sary documents  in  Venice.  The  three  certificates  were 
soon  forthcoming,  but  the  patriarch  of  Venice  would 
not  grant  permission  for  Carlo  to  be  tonsured,  "with- 
out the  settlement  of  the  patrimony  ordained  by  the 
canons  of  the  Church."  As  Dr.  Goldoni's  property 
was  not  situated  in  the  Venetian  dominions,  and  his 
wife's  was  entailed,  it  became  necessary  to  apply  to 
the  senate  for  a  dispensation,  a  bit  of  ecclesiastical  red 
tape  that  postponed  the  matriculation  for  several 
months.  As  the  guests  of  the  Marquis  Goldoni, 
Carlo  and  his  father  tarried  in  Milan  for  a  fortnight, 
then  set  out  for  Pavia,  "well  provided  with  letters  of 
recommendation."  There  they  lodged  in  "a  good 
bourgeois  house"  while  awaiting  the  official  docu- 
ments. An  introduction  from  the  Marquis  Goldoni 
to  Professor  Lauzio  enabled  Carlo  to  attend  the  lec- 
tures of  that  jurisconsult  in  the  meantime,  and  also  to 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  23 

browse  in  his  library,  where  he  devoured  a  collection 
of  ancient  and  modern  comedies,  whenever  he  became 
weary  of  thumbing  musty  treatises  on  Roman  law. 

While  ransacking  Professor  Lauzio's  book  shelves 
for  plays  to  read,  he  made  the  mortifying  discovery 
that  there  was  an  English,  a  Spanish,  and  a  French 
drama,  but  no  Italian  drama.  "Wishing  passionately 
to  see  his  country  rise  to  the  level  of  others,"  he  vowed 
he  would  contribute  his  share  to  that  end.  Though 
he  kept  this  youthful  resolution  worthily,  this  lad  in 
his  teens  could  scarcely  have  foreseen  that  he  was 
destined  to  rescue  Italian  comedy  from  the  obscene 
mire  in  which  it  wallowed,  and  by  cleansing  it  and 
imbuing  it  with  nationalism,  raise  it  almost  to  the 
superlative  level  French  comedy  had  attained  in  the 
hands  of  Moliere. 

While  thus  conceiving  his  life-work,  he  awaited 
impatiently  the  documents  that  would  permit  him  to 
become  a  full-fledged  collegian.  When  they  finally 
arrived,  he  received  the  tonsure  at  the  hands  of  the 
cardinal-archbishop  of  Pavia  (Dec.  25,  1722),  and 
entered  the  Ghislieri  College.  He  was  not  quite  six- 
teen when  he  donned  the  sovrana  or  college  gown, 
bearing  on  a  velvet  stole  attached  to  the  left 
shoulder  the  Ghislieri  arms  embroidered  in  gold 
and  silver,  the  pontifical  tiara  and  the  keys  of  St. 
Peter, — a  costume,  as  he  confesses,  "calculated  to 
give  a  young  man  an  air  of  importance  and  arouse 
his  vanity." 

At  the  Ghislieri  College,  the  students  "acted  pre- 


24  GOLDONI 

cisely  as  they  pleased,"  he  informs  us,  "there  being  a 
great  deal  of  dissipation  within,  and  a  great  deal  of 
freedom  without."  He  learned  fencing,  dancing, 
music,  and  drawing,  as  well  as  "all  possible  games  of 
commerce  and  chance,"  and  contrived  meanwhile  to 
find  his  way  "into  the  most  charming  houses  of  the 
town."  His  Venetian  jargon  "was  agreeable  to  the 
ladies,"  his  age  and  figure  "were  not  displeasing,"  and 
his  couplets  and  songs  "were  by  no  means  ill-rel- 
ished." "Was  it  my  fault,"  he  laments,  "if  I  em- 
ployed my  time  badly?  Yes ;  for  there  were  a  few 
wise  and  correct  fellows  among  the  forty  composing 
our  number,  whom  I  should  have  imitated."  Indeed, 
many  escapades  mar  young  Goldoni's  course  at  the 
Ghislieri  College,  he  being  by  his  own  confession 
"joyous,  weak,  and  fond  of  pleasure." 

His  long  summer  vacations  were  passed  in  the 
bosom  of  his  fond  family  at  Chioggia,  that  quaint 
fishing  town  appearing  to  him  "more  dirty  than  ever" 
after  a  sojourn  at  Pavia.  During  his  first  holiday  a 
worthy  canon,  to  whom  he  appealed  for  plays  to  read, 
inadvertently  gave  him  Machiavelli's  obscene  mas- 
terpiece, The  Mandrake  (La  Mandragola}.  His 
father,  who  knew  its  character,  lectured  him  severely 
for  reading  it;  yet  the  lad  saw  that  it  was  the  "first 
comedy  of  character  that  had  ever  fallen  into  his 
hands,"  and  he  was  "charmed  by  it."  Still  ignorant 
of  French,  he  resolved  to  learn  that  language  in  or- 
der that  he  might  study  the  comedies  of  Moliere. 
Meanwhile,  he  accustomed  himself  "to  consider  men 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  25 

closely,  and  never  to  let  an  original  character  elude 
him." 

On  the  way  home  from  one  of  his  vacations,  as  the 
guest  of  a  Venetian  diplomat's  staff,  he  travelled 
luxuriously  on  the  river  Po  in  a  private  burchiello. 
There  were  ten  in  the  party,  all  players  of  some  in- 
strument except  himself,  a  lack  of  musical  talent 
he  endeavoured  to  make  up  for  by  writing  in  verse  a 
daily  chronicle  of  the  journey.  But  this  was  not  his 
only  undergraduate  manifestation  of  literary  talent, 
for  when  he  returned  to  Chioggia  for  his  second  sum- 
mer holiday,  he  wrote  a  sermon  at  the  request  of  a  nun 
who  was  his  mother's  friend.  The  sermon  was  about 
a  relic  that  had  just  been  presented  to  the  nun's  con- 
vent of  St.  Francis,  and  a  young  priest  delivered  it 
so  effectively  that  the  audience  was  moved  to  tears, 
Goldoni  being  showered  with  compliments  when  it 
became  known  that  he  was  its  author. 

Our  young  student  was  "plenteously  endowed  with 
reason  for  his  age,"  he  says,  but  he  "was  at  the  mercy 
of  rash  escapades."  And  he  adds,  "they  did  me 
great  harm,  as  you  will  perceive,  and  you  will  pity 
me  perhaps."  Thus,  on  his  first  journey  back  from 
Chioggia  to  Pavia,  he  stopped  at  Modena,  where  the 
maid-servant  of  his  lodging-house  wished  to  elope 
with  him,  but  he  assures  us  that  he  was  not  "enough 
of  a  libertine  to  take  advantage  of  her."  Reaching 
Piacenza,  he  found  himself,  like  many  another 
student,  stoney-broke,  and  as  fate  would  have  it,  he 
discovered  a  conscience-stricken  relative  who  con- 


26  GOLDONI 

fessed  to  owing  his  father  six  hundred  livres  tournols, 
a  goodly  sum  which  the  young  rogue  succeeded 
in  collecting  as  his  father's  representative,  and  thus 
imbursed,  he  reached  Pavia,  where  he  aroused  the 
envy  of  his  fellow-students  by  making  a  six  days' 
journey  during  the  Christmas  holidays  with  his 
patron,  the  Marquis  Goldoni,  a  "piece  of  ostenta- 
tion" that  caused  two  jealous  classmates  to  lock  him 
in  a  brothel  they  had  enticed  him  to  enter,  without 
his  being  aware  of  its  character.  He  escaped  by 
jumping  from  a  window,  but  the  affair  reached  the 
ears  of  the  college  authorities.  To  exonerate  him- 
self, he  denounced  the  guilty,  but  soon  reaped  the 
tattler's  reward. 

There  was,  it  appears,  so  great  an  animosity  in 
Pavia  between  town  and  gown  that  forty  townsmen 
resolved  never  to  marry  any  girl  who  received  the 
visits  of  students,  with  the  result  that  mothers  of 
marriageable  daughters  proscribed  all  wearers  of 
the  sovrana.  Finding  the  doors  of  "the  charming 
houses"  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  frequenting, 
closed  to  him,  Goldoni  considered  his  honour  at 
stake,  and  on  the  advice  of  classmates  who  sought 
his  undoing  for  the  affair  of  the  brothel,  he  armed 
himself  with  a  brace  of  pistols;  whereupon  his  trai- 
torous comrades  secretly  denounced  him  to  the  col- 
lege authorities  for  carrying  concealed  weapons. 
Though  arrested  and  confined  to  his  room,  he  wel- 
comed his  punishment,  since  it  gave  him  sorely 
needed  time  to  prepare  his  thesis;  but  his  enemies, 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  27 

alas,  invaded  his  privacy  and  "tickled  his  self-love" 
in  this  wise : 

"You  are  a  poet,"  said  they,  "and  consequently  you  have  surer 
and  better  arms  for  your  revenge  than  pistols  and  guns.  A  stroke 
of  the  pen  opportunely  discharged  is  a  bomb  that  crushes  the 
chief  offender,  its  fragments  wounding  his  adherents  right  and  left." 
"Courage,  courage,"  they  cried  in  chorus;  "we  shall  supply  you 
with  curious  anecdotes,  and  you,  as  well  as  ourselves,  will  be  re- 
venged." 

Thus  tempted,  he  composed,  in  the  form  of  a 
Roman  Atellana,  a  satire  entitled  The  Colossus, 
which,  when  circulated  throughout  the  town  by 
Goldoni's  false  friends,  so  wounded  the  sensibilities 
of  twelve  worthy  and  respectable  families  that  they 
cried  for  vengeance,  and  sought  the  author's  life. 
Luckily,  he  was  still  under  arrest,  but  fellow-students 
were  insulted,  the  Papal  College  was  besieged, 
and  so  great  was  the  animosity  created  by  "the 
piquant  sallies  and  shafts  of  this  vis  comica"  that  the 
budding  dramatist  was  expelled  from  his  Alma 
Mater  despite  the  appeals  made  by  his  patron,  the 
Marquis  Goldoni,  to  the  archbishop,  the  governor, 
and  the  patron  of  the  college. 

Ashamed  to  face  the  scorn  of  his  parents,  pro- 
tectors, and  friends,  Goldoni  resolved  to  go  to  Rome, 
he  says,  in  the  hope  that  Gravina,  the  poet  and  critic, 
would  befriend  him  as  he  had  befriended  Metastasio. 
But  Gravina  had  been  dead  seven  years,  so  that  was 
a  purpose  he  could  scarcely  have  hoped  to  fulfil. 
His  state  of  mind  must  have  been  desperate,  however, 
and  furthermore,  he  was  penniless.  The  college  au- 


28  GOLDONI 

thorities  put  him  aboard  a  river  packet,  paid  his  fare 
to  Chioggia,  and  advanced  him  thirty  paoli  for  con- 
tingencies. At  Piacenza  he  attempted  to  go  ashore, 
with  the  intention  of  footing  it  to  Rome,  but  found 
that  orders  to  detain  him  had  been  given ;  therefore, 
as  he  expresses  it,  he  had  "no  alternative  but  to  go 
to  Chioggia  or  throw  himself  into  the  Po." 

On  the  voyage  thither,  a  Dominican  fellow- 
traveller  possessed  himself  of  the  remorseful  lad's 
thirty  paoli,  as  "an  alms  to  propitiate  the  wrath  of 
God";  yet,  when  Chioggia  was  reached,  this  hypo- 
crite "touched  the  heart  of  a  tender  mother"  and  ad- 
monished a  good-natured  father  "not  to  forget  the 
parable  of  the  prodigal  son,"  so  successfully  that  he 
fairly  earned  the  lad's  paoli,  as  well  as  the  good  meals 
he  ate  at  the  Goldoni  board.  This  monk  was  an 
arrant  impostor,  however,  who,  unwittingly  aided  by 
Dr.  Goldoni,  obtained  from  the  latter's  patients,  the 
nuns  of  St.  Francis,  a  goodly  stock  of  oil  and  money 
in  exchange  for  a  sham  miracle  he  performed,  by 
passing  a  piece  of  the  Virgin's  lace  through  fire,  the 
lace  being  "nothing  more  or  less  than  iron  wire  ar- 
ranged in  such  a  manner  as  to  deceive  the  eye." 
When  the  nuns  had  been  reprimanded  by  their 
bishop,  and  the  monk  had  decamped,  Dr.  Goldoni, 
accompanied  by  his  son  Carlo,  departed  for  Udine, 
a  city  in  the  Venetian  Friuli,  where  he  had  been  sum- 
moned professionally. 

The  future  dramatist  was  now  in  his  eighteenth 
year.  He  had  run  away  from  one  school,  and  had 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  29 

been  expelled  from  another,  therefore  it  was  time 
for  him  to  buckle  to  serious  work;  yet  though  he  as- 
sures us  that  he  profited  more  during  the  six  months 
he  passed  at  Udine  from  the  lectures  of  a  juriscon- 
sult named  Movelli,  than  he  had  during  the  three 
years  he  had  passed  at  Pavia,  he  confesses  that  he  was 
still  "young,  and  required  agreeable  relaxations." 

On  hearing  a  quadragesimal  sermon  delivered  by  a 
former  Augustinian  friar,  he  wrote  a  sonnet  con- 
taining "the  three  points  of  its  division,  word  for 
word,"  and  so  greatly  was  he  elated  by  "the  praise 
of  a  gentleman  of  Udine  well  versed  in  belles-let- 
tres" that  he  sonnetized  thirty-five  more  of  the  same 
preacher's  sermons  and  published  them  in  pamphlet 
form,  thereby  eliciting  the  preacher's  thanks,  as  well 
as  the  praise  of  the  town  officials,  to  whom  he  had 
tactfully  dedicated  these  youthful  efforts. 

Though  "the  novelty  of  this  work  thrilled  him,  and 
the  rapidity  with  which  he  executed  it  surprised 
him,"  the  young  man  found  "agreeable  relaxations" 
of  a  less  worthy  nature.  Four  doors  from  his  lodg- 
ing dwelt  a  young  lady  "as  affable,  beautiful,  and 
courteous  as  she  was  modest,"  whom  he  eyed  ardently 
when  she  sat  in  her  window,  and  followed  longingly 
when  she  went  to  mass.  Her  maid  soon  discovered 
his  infatuation  and  played  upon  his  ardour  to  her 
own  profit.  She  gave  him  fond  notes,  and  at  night 
beneath  a  balcony,  permitted  him  tenderly  to  address 
"a  head  covered  with  a  night-cap."  When  his  most 
amorous  words  were  received  with  peals  of  laughter, 


30  GOLDONI 

and  the  window  was  shut  in  his  face,  the  wily  maid 
palliated  the  affront  with  the  promise  of  a  rendezvous 
with  her  mistress,  but  not  until  Goldoni  had  bought 
and  given  a  present  consisting  of  a  cross,  earrings, 
necklace,  and  brooch  of  coloured  Vienna  stones.  He 
saw  his  inamorata  at  church,  "decked  out  in  his 
trinkets,"  and  he  was  "as  happy  as  a  king/'  but  at 
the  rendezvous,  the  maid  appeared  instead  of  the 
young  lady,  with  a  cock-and-bull  story  to  tell  about 
having  long  concealed  her  own  ardent  «passion  for 
him,  because  a  cruel  mistress  wished  to  prey  upon  his 
infatuation.  Though  she  was  prepared  to  give  him 
"most  convincing  proofs"  of  her  love,  Goldoni's  sus- 
picions were  aroused,  and  instead  of  falling  into  the 
amorous  trap  the  minx  had  set  for  him,  he  plotted 
her  undoing.  Coached  in  the  wiles  of  her  sex  by  a 
little  milliner  with  whom,  as  he  confesses,  he  had  al- 
ready "taken  several  pleasure  trips,"  at  their  next 
rendezvous  he  confronted  the  trickish  maid  with  sev- 
eral witnesses  who  knew  her  character,  and  forced 
from  her  brazen  lips  the  confession  that  her  hand  had 
written  the  fond  notes,  that  her  head  had  been  the  one 
in  the  night-cap,  and  that  his  trinkets  had  been  sold, 
instead  of  given,  to  her  unsuspecting  mistress,  still  in 
blissful  ignorance  of  his  passion. 

"To  indemnify  himself,"  as  he  expresses  it,  "for  the 
time  he  had  lost,"  he  dallied  with  the  daughter  of  a 
lemonade-seller,18  who  abetted  her  mother  in  surpris- 

18  In  the  preface  to  Vol.  IX  of  the  Pasquali  edition,  Goldoni  states  that 
she  was  the  daughter  of  a  caffettiere;  in  his  memoirs  he  describes  her  as 
the  daughter  of  a  limonadier. 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  31 

ing  him  during  a  nocturnal  rendezvous  and  forcing 
from  him  a  promise  of  marriage.  To  escape  from  the 
wiles  of  these  women  he  fled  to  Gorz,  where  his 
father  had  gone  to  attend  professionally  the  Count 
of  Lantieri,  an  official  in  the  service  of  the  Austrian 
Emperor. 

Goldoni  remained  several  months  in  the  household 
of  this  nobleman,  the  greater  portion  of  the  time  being 
spent  in  the  count's  feudal  town  of  Wippach,  where 
the  table  was  "abundantly  served,"  "the  wines  excel- 
lent," and  toasts  were  drunk  "every  moment."  To 
gratify  his  young  guest's  passion  for  the  drama,  the 
Count  refurbished  a  disused  puppet-booth,  in  which, 
"for  the  amusement  of  the  company,"  our  future 
dramatist  presented  The  Sneezing  of  Hercules  (Lo 
Starnuto  di  Ercole) ,  a  play  for  marionettes  written  by 
Pier  Jacopo  Martelli,  a  poet  whose  fourteen- 
syllabled  measure,  known  as  Martellian  verse,  Gol- 
doni was  to  use  frequently  in  his  versified  comedies. 

While  Dr.  Goldoni  was  completing  his  noble 
patient's  cure,  his  son  visited  Laibach,  Gratz,  Trieste, 
Aquileia,  Gradisca,  and  Wippach,  in  the  company  of 
the  count's  secretary.  On  the  completion  of  this 
pleasure  trip,  Carlo  returned  with  his  father  to 
Chioggia,  where  he  arrived  during  the  autumn  of 
1726,  Dr.  Goldoni  having  been  induced  to  take  a 
road  that  did  not  lead  through  Udine,  his  scampish 
son  being  in  dread  of  a  "disagreeable  encounter"  with 
the  drabs  who  had  ensnared  him.  The  youthful  re- 
probate thus  describes  his  home-coming: 


32  GOLDONI 

On  our  arrival  at  Chioggia  we  were  received  as  a  mother  re- 
ceives a  dear  son,  as  a  wife  receives  her  dear  husband,  after  a  long 
absence.  I  was  delighted  to  see  again  that  virtuous  mother  who 
was  so  tenderly  attached  to  me;  after  having  been  seduced  and  de- 
ceived I  needed  to  be  loved. 

The  maternal  and  filial  embraces  were  of  short 
duration,  however,  a  letter  having  come  from  a  cousin 
who  lived  at  Modena,  in  which  young  Carlo,  being 
urged  to  study  law  at  the  university  there,  was  offered 
moral  guidance,  as  well  as  assistance  in  finding  a  suit- 
able lodging-house.  This  invitation  gave  rise  "to 
endless  reasonings,  for  and  against,  between  father 
and  mother,"  but  the  master  of  the  house  carried  the 
day,  and  soon  the  wayward  lad  was  journeying  to  Mo- 
dena on  a  river  packet,  commanded  by  "an  aged  and 
spare"  man  named  Bastia,  who  was  so  devout  that  he 
exhorted  his  passengers  to  say  their  rosaries  and  recite 
the  litanies  of  the  Virgin.  The  laughter  of  three 
renegade  Jews,  who  had  so  far  forsworn  their  own 
faith  as  to  eat  bacon  at  dinner,  rudely  interrupted 
these  devotions;  but  the  piety  of  the  packet's  com- 
mander impressed  our  contrite  young  passenger  so 
favourably  that,  on  reaching  Modena,  he  decided  to 
lodge  in  the  river-man's  "sanctified  house,"  a  decision 
in  which  his  solicitous  relative  concurred. 

Although  he  began  the  study  of  legal  procedure 
under  a  famous  lawyer  and  had  the  good  fortune  to 
meet  Muratori,  the  historian,  whose  nephew  was  his 
chum,  his  scholastic  career  was  again  cut  short.  At 
Modena,  however,  he  was  undone  by  religious  fer- 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  33 

vour,  instead  of  by  student  pranks  or  by  the  wiles  of 
soubrettes,  "a  frightful  scene"  which  he  witnessed  a 
few  days  after  his  arrival  having  affected  his  impres- 
sionable nature  so  forcibly  that  his  mind  was  "trou- 
bled" and  his  "senses  were  agitated"  in  this  wise: 

I  saw  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  a  scaffold  erected  to  a  height  of 
five  feet,  on  which  a  man  appeared  with  his  head  bared  and  his 
hands  bound.  He  was  a  priest  whom  I  knew,  an  enlightened  lit- 
erary man,  a  celebrated  poet,  well  known  and  highly  esteemed  in 
Italy,  he  being  the  Abbe  J.-B.-V.19  One  friar  held  a  book,  an- 
other questioned  the  culprit,  who  answered  haughtily.  The  spec- 
tators clapped  their  hands  and  encouraged  him,  the  upbraiding 
increased,  the  disgraced  man  trembled ;  I  could  endure  it  no  longer. 
Thoughtful,  disturbed,  and  amazed,  I  departed,  my  vapours  attack- 
ing me  immediately.  I  returned  home,  and  shutting  myself  in  my 
room,  plunged  into  gloomy  and  humiliating  reflections  upon  hu- 
manity. 

The  priest,  it  appears,  had  been  denounced  by  a 
woman  for  uttering  indecent  language  while  giving 
her  the  sacrament,  and  this  fellow-sinner's  degrada- 
tion caused  Goldoni  to  review  his  own  amorous  de- 
linquencies so  abjectly,  that  he  began  to  say  his  rosary 
devoutly  and  go  to  mass  daily  with  Bastia,  his  pious 

19  Hermann  von  Lohner  tried  to  discover  the  identity  of  this  abbe.  He 
found  the  initials  J.-B.-V.  corresponded  to  those  of  the  poet  Gio.  Battista 
Vicini.  A.  G.  Spinelli  later  discovered  a  sonnet,  in  which  it  is  stated  that 
Vicini  "Del  foco  punitor  del  Santo  Uffizio."  A  note  adds  that  he  "was 
condemned  by  the  Inquisition  on  account  of  his  many  foolish  errors  and 
his  obscene  lewdness,"  Spinelli's  comment  being  that  "Von  Lohner's  suppo- 
sition that  the  initials  J.-B.-V.  may  hide  the  name  of  our  poet  Gio.  Battista 
Vicini,  perhaps  touches  the  truth."  This  probability  is  strengthened  by  a 
letter  from  Goldoni,  dated  Dec.  9,  1757,  written  as  Ernesto  Mas!  suggests 
to  Vicini,  and  which  contains  the  following:  "Have  confidence  in  a  man 
of  honour  who  esteems  you,  who  has,  always  esteemed  you  in  spite  of  certain 
mortifications  for  which  your  enemies  are  to  blame." 


34  GOLDONI 

landlord,  a  devotee  who  nourished  his  young  lodger 
with  "so  much  unction,"  that  he  resolved  to  renounce 
the  world  and  become  a  Capuchin  monk.  But  Dr. 
Goldoni,  in  the  words  of  his  son,  "was  no  fool,"  for 
when  Carlo  announced  his  intention  of  "enveloping 
himself  in  a  cowl,"  instead  of  being  opposed,  he  was 
brought  to  Venice  and  taken  to  the  theatres  of  that 
joyous  city,  a  cure  that  in  fifteen  days  drove  all 
thoughts  of  the  cloister  from  his  impressionable  mind. 
When  "his  vapours  were  dissipated"  and  he  was 
"restored  to  reason,"  he  was  taken  to  Chioggia,  where 
he  became,  so  he  says,  "dearer  and  more  interesting" 
to  his  mother  "because  of  the  absence  of  her  younger 
son." 

Being  destined  for  the  army,  Goldoni's  ne'er-do- 
well  brother,  Gian  Paolo,  then  a  lad  of  fifteen,  had 
been  taken  to  Zara,  the  capital  of  Dalmatia,  by  a 
soldier  cousin  of  his  mother,  who  "took  charge  of  his 
education  and  afterward  placed  him  in  his  regiment." 
Meanwhile  the  first-born,  now  in  his  twenty-first  year, 
despaired  of  his  future.  He  had  "experienced  so 
many  reverses,"  and  "so  many  singular  catastrophes" 
had  happened  to  him,  that  the  dramatic  art,  of  "which 
he  was  still  fond"  and  which  he  would  long  since 
have  embraced  had  he  "been  master  of  his  own  will," 
seemed  his  only  resource.  But  his  father,  though 
"vexed  to  see  him  the  sport  of  fortune,"  did  not  allow 
himself  to  be  cast  down.  Being  acquainted  both  with 
the  Podesta  of  Chioggia  and  also  with  the  criminal 
chancellor  and  his  coadjutor,  Dr.  Goldoni  obtained 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  35 

for  his  f reward  son  an  appointment  as  the  coadjutor's 
assistant,  a  post  "without  salary,"  but  which  enabled 
the  lad  to  "enjoy  the  pleasures  of  society"  as  well  as 
"a  good  table,  an  abundance  of  plays,  concerts,  balls, 
and  banquets." 

"Aware  of  the  necessity  of  making  a  reputation  for 
himself,"  the  young  official  performed  his  duties  so 
ably  that  the  criminal  chancellor  soon  entrusted  him 
with  "thorny  commissions"  that  did  not  pass  through 
the  lazy  hands  of  his  assistant.  When  transferred  to 
the  town  of  Feltre,  the  chancellor  appointed  young 
Goldoni  his  coadjutor.  Yet,  howsoever  successfully 
the  future  master  of  Italian  comedy  may  have  fulfilled 
his  official  duties  in  Chioggia,  the  lasting  work  he  per- 
formed in  that  odd  town  was  to  learn  the  droll  ways 
of  its  inhabitants ;  since,  inspired  by  his  experience  as 
assistant  to  the  coadjutor  of  Chioggia,  he  wrote  in 
after  years  his  masterpiece,  The  Chioggian  Brawls 
(Le  Baruffe  Chiozzotte) ,  the  first  comedy  of  any  land 
to  mirror  truly  and  affectionately  the  common  people, 
without  nobles  to  scorn  them  or  clowns  to  belie  them. 

While  awaiting  the  time  when  he  was  to  leave  for 
Feltre,  and  assimilating  the  quaint  life  of  Chioggia 
he  was  to  paint  so  inimitably  one  day,  he  learned  much 
about  human  nature  from  the  criminal  proceedings  in 
the  court  of  which  he  was  a  minor  official.  Mean- 
while, he  praised  the  podesta  in  verse  and  "expatiated 
at  great  length  on  the  virtues  and  personal  qualities 
of  his  consort,"  both  of  whom  had  been  kind  to  him. 
He  made  love,  too,  on  his  own  account,  but  in  a  way 


36  GOLDONI 

more  legitimate  than  had  been  his  previous  wont,  for 
though  there  was  a  stain  upon  the  birth  of  the  con- 
vent pupil  who  enlisted  his  affections,  she  was  so 
"beautiful,  rich,  and  amiable,"  that  he  wished  to 
marry  her. 

A  nun  at  the  convent  where  his  new  inamorata  was 
ensconced  pretended  to  abet  his  suit,  but  "Mademoi- 
selle N.  .  .  .  ,"  as  he  styles  her  in  his  memoirs,  had 
an  old  guardian  who  suborned  the  nun  to  further 
his  own  suit  for  his  ward's  hand.  This  false  con- 
fidante sought  to  propitiate  Goldoni  with  the  assur- 
ance that  as  "a  young  wife  must  shorten  the  days  of 
an  old  husband,"  he  might  soon  wed  "a  pretty  widow, 
who  had  been  a  wife  only  in  name."  Refusing  to  be 
thus  mollified,  he  bowed  himself  out  of  the  convent 
parlour  in  silence,  "never  saw  nun  or  pupil  again, 
and  happily  soon  forgot  both  of  them,"  a  result  easy 
to  accomplish,  it  appears,  for  no  sooner  had  he  been 
installed  in  his  new  office  at  Feltre  than  he  dis- 
covered that  there  was  a  troupe  of  actors  in  that 
mountain  town,  among  whom  was  his  Riminian 
friend,  Florindo,  now  reduced  by  old  age  to  playing 
the  roles  of  kings  in  tragedy  and  fathers  in  comedy. 
Yet  in  spite  of  his  proximity  to  a  provincial  green- 
room, Goldoni  assures  us  that  for  several  months  he 
laid  aside  every  idea  of  pleasure  and  amusement,  in 
order  to  apply  himself  seriously  to  official  work,  a 
chancellorship  being  his  aspiration.  But  in  the  ful- 
filment of  his  duties  as  coadjutor,  he  was  again 
brought  within  the  allurement  of  bewitching  eyes. 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  37 

Being  ordered  to  conduct  an  investigation  in  the 
country  ten  leagues  from  Feltre,  he  induced  several 
friends  of  both  sexes  to  accompany  him  on  a  "de- 
licious expedition,"  during  which  they  "never  dined 
or  supped  in  the  same  place,  and  for  twelve  nights 
never  slept  in  beds."  Frequently,  they  went  on  foot 
"along  delightful  roads  bordered  with  vines  and 
shaded  by  fig  trees."  Sometimes  they  breakfasted  on 
milk,  and  sometimes  they  shared  the  fare  of  peasants; 
but  wherever  they  went  "they  saw  nothing  but  fetes, 
rejoicings,  and  entertainments,"  and  in  the  evening 
"there  were  balls  the  whole  night  long  in  which  the 
ladies,  as  well  as  the  men,  were  indefatigable." 

In  this  gay  party  there  were  two  sisters,  and  his  lik- 
ing for  the  unmarried  one — a  young  lady  "as  prudent 
and  modest  as  her  married  sister  was  headstrong  and 
foolish" — had  inspired  Goldoni  to  organize  this  de- 
lectable excursion,  which  gave  him  the  opportunity 
to  fall  in  love,  and  find  himself  acceptable  to  the  ob- 
ject of  his  longing.  The  effects  of  "these  balls  the 
whole  night  long,"  however,  were  so  severe  that  when 
the  party  returned  to  Feltre,  Goldoni  was  indisposed 
for  a  month  and  his  "poor  Angelica  lay  ill  of  a  fever 
for  forty  days." 

There  was  a  theatre  in  the  governor's  palace  at 
Feltre,  and  when  the  merrymakers  had  recovered 
from  the  fatigues  of  their  journey,  Goldoni  was  asked 
by  his  friends  to  manage  some  private  theatricals. 
The  operas  of  Metastasio  were  then  the  fashion,  and 
as  they  were  "given  everywhere  even  without  music," 


38  GOLDONI 

the  young  impresario  selected  two  of  them  for  pre- 
sentation, and  put  the  arias  into  recitative.  He  re- 
served the  worst  parts  for  himself,  and  "acted  wisely,'* 
he  tells  us,  he  being  "completely  unsuited  to  tragedy." 
"Luckily,"  he  continues,  "I  had  composed  two  small 
pieces  in  which  I  played  two  character  parts  and 
redeemed  my  reputation."  20 

He  tried  to  induce  his  "beautiful  Angelica"  to  ac- 
cept a  role  in  one  of  these  performances,  but  she  was 
timid,  and  moreover  her  parents  refused  their  con- 
sent. She  was  jealous,  too,  and  suffered  much  from 
seeing  her  lover  on  such  a  familiar  footing  with  the 
actresses  of  his  amateur  troupe.  Though  "the  poor 
little  girl  loved  him  tenderly  and  sincerely,"  and  he 
"loved  her  also  with  his  whole  soul,"  Goldoni  did  not 
marry  pretty  Angelica,  the  termination  of  this  love 
affair  being  thus  naively  told  by  him : 

She  was  the  first  person,  I  may  say,  whom  I  had  ever  loved. 
She  aspired  to  become  my  wife,  and  would  have  been,  if  certain 
strange  reflections,  that  were  well  founded,  however,  had  not  de- 
terred me.  Her  elder  sister  had  been  a  remarkable  beauty,  but 
after  the  birth  of  her  first  child  she  became  ugly.  The  younger 
had  the  same  complexion,  and  the  same  characteristics.  Hers  was 
one  of  those  delicate  beauties  the  air  injures,  and  the  slightest  weari- 
ness or  pain  impairs.  Of  this,  I  had  had  evident  proof,  the  fatigue 
of  our  journey  having  changed  her  tremendously.  I  was  young,  and 
should  my  wTife  lose  her  bloom  in  a  short  time,  I  foresaw  that  this 
would  be  my  despair.  This  was  reasoning  too  much  for  a  lover; 
but  either  from  virtue,  weakness,  or  inconstancy,  I  left  Feltre  with- 
out marrying  her. 

Although  he  confesses  that  he  had  some  difficulty 

20 //  Buon  padre  sometimes  called  //  Buon  vecchio,  and  La  Cantatrlce* 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  39 

in  tearing  himself  away  from  this  "charming  object 
of  his  first  virtuous  love,"  he  acknowledges  that  "she 
possessed  only  beauty,  and  as  it  was  already  wan- 
ing, his  self-love  became  stronger  than  his  passion." 

During  the  autumn  of  1730,  he  left  Feltre  to  join 
his  father  at  Bagnacavallo,  a  town  near  Ravenna, 
where  Dr.  Goldoni,  who  had  gone  there  to  accept 
"an  advantageous  offer"  to  practice  medicine,  lay  ill 
of  a  mortal  disease.  On  the  way  thither,  young 
Carlo  was  cleverly  plucked  at  faro  by  a  card-sharper, 
he  being  "not  yet  cunning  enough,"  he  declares,  "to 
foresee  the  tricks  of  Messieurs  les  Escamoteurs" 

On  arriving  at  Bagnacavallo,  he  was  "consoled  for 
being  swindled,  by  the  sight  of  his  dear  parents,"  his 
father  "having  been  fearful  that  he  would  die  with- 
out seeing  him."  Dr.  Goldoni  recovered  sufficiently, 
however,  to  introduce  his  son  into  the  best  society  of 
his  new  abode,  as  well  as  to  take  him  to  Faenza, 
where  the  pair  saw  several  comedies  performed  by  a 
strolling  company.  On  returning  to  Bagnacavallo, 
the  elder  Goldoni,  whose  "illness  was  of  a  year's 
standing,"  experienced  a  relapse  so  serious  that  he 
took  to  his  bed,  and  after  a  fortnight,  "breathed  his 
last  while  recommending  his  dear  wife  to  his  son's 
protection." 

Goldoni  "felt  keenly  the  loss  of  his  father,"  he  as- 
sures us,  and  he  "endeavoured  to  console  his  mother, 
who  in  turn  tried  to  comfort  him,"  their  first  care 
being  to  return  to  Venice.  During  the  journey,  the 
widow  urged  her  son  to  become  a  lawyer,  and  at 


40  GOLDONI 

Venice  so  many  friends  and  relatives  joined  her  in 
these  solicitations,  that  he  was  "at  last  obliged  to 
yield,"  though  he  resisted,  he  tells  us,  "as  long  as  he 
could." 

In  order  to  be  admitted  to  the  Venetian  bar,  it  was 
necessary  for  him  to  receive  his  doctorate  from  the 
University  of  Padua,  where  a  five-years'  residence 
was  required  of  students  of  Venetian  birth,  foreigners 
alone  being  permitted  "to  present  themselves  and  de- 
fend their  theses  without  delay."  Both  Goldoni  and 
his  father  were  born  in  Venice,  but  they  were  of 
Modenese  descent;  a  circumstance  that  enabled  our 
dramatist  to  avail  himself  of  the  protection  of  the 
Duke  of  Modena,  and  be  admitted  to  the  university 
as  a  privileged  foreigner. 

He  had  studied  law  in  a  desultory  way  at  Pavia, 
Udine,  and  Modena;  yet,  realizing  the  need  of  tutor- 
ing, he  secured  the  services  of  Francesco  Radi,  a 
young  lawyer  who  had  been  his  friend  during  child- 
hood. Radi  was  "a  worthy  man,"  although  "his  cir- 
cumstances were  entangled  because  of  his  love  for 
gaming,"  a  failing  that  soon  became  manifest. 

The  examinations  at  the  University  of  Padua  had 
been  heretofore  a  mere  farce,  but  the  Abbe  Arrighi, 
a  Corsican  professor,  in  an  excess  of  zeal  had  just  in- 
stituted reforms  which,  according  to  our  young  candi- 
date, "would  have  destroyed  the  University  of  Padua 
had  they  been  long  enforced."  Instead  of  being 
furnished  with  both  questions  and  answers  in 
advance  of  the  examination,  as  had  been  custom- 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  41 

ary,  he  was  examined  rigidly  by  Arrighi  him- 
self, before  being  permitted  to  hold  his  thesis 
before  the  college  of  doctors.  He  passed  this 
preliminary  test  none  too  brilliantly,  and  being  in 
considerable  apprehension  regarding  the  public  ex- 
amination on  the  morrow,  he  spent  the  afternoon  in 
cramming  assiduously;  but  when  he  sat  down  at  his 
desk  after  supper  with  Radi  his  tutor,  prepared  to 
burn  the  midnight  oil,  his  room  was  invaded  by  five 
young  fellows  armed  with  a  pack  of  cards.  Radi, 
being  a  gambler  born,  was  the  first  to  succumb  to 
their  blandishments ;  but  Goldoni  did  not  long  with- 
stand temptation,  and  not  till  broad  daylight,  when 
the  beadle  of  the  university  brought  him  his  aca- 
demic gown,  did  he  tear  himself  away  from  the 
green  board,  and  "smarting  from  chagrin  at  the  loss 
of  both  his  time  and  his  money"  hasten  before  the 
college  of  doctors. 

In  spite  of  the  night's  dissipation,  he  held  his 
thesis  so  successfully  that  when  the  votes  were  taken, 
the  registrar  announced  that  he  had  been  made  a 
licentiate  without  a  dissenting  voice,  even  Arrighi, 
the  Corsican,  being  "well  satisfied."  "I  was  born 
lucky,"  he  says,  "and  whenever  I  have  not  been  so, 
the  fault  has  been  entirely  my  own,"  but  on  this  oc- 
casion luck  certainly  prevented  a  fault  from  undoing 
him. 

Borrowing  sufficient  money  to  reach  Venice,  he 
hastened  there,  highly  elated  by  his  success,  and  was 
received  in  the  loving  arms  of  his  proud  mother  and 


42  GOLDONI 

aunt;  but  before  he  could  begin  the  practice  of  law, 
he  was  obliged,  according  to  the  Venetian  regula- 
tions, to  study  the  forms  and  practices  of  the  bar  in 
a  law  office  for  two  years.  His  uncle  Indric,  the 
barrister,  obtained  a  berth  for  him  in  the  office  of 
"one  of  the  best  pleaders  in  the  republic,"  and  again 
his  luck  served  him;  since  owing  to  the  careless- 
ness of  the  authorities  who  examined  his  papers, 
within  eight  months  he  was  permitted  to  be  pre- 
sented in  court.  After  making  "so  many  bows  and 
contortions  that  his  back  was  almost  broken  and  his 
wig  resembled  the  mane  of  a  lion,"  he  was  finally  ad- 
mitted to  the  Venetian  bar. 

A  briefless  barrister,  he  began  to  seek  clients.  One 
day  while  he  was  "building  castles  in  Spain,"  he  was 
accosted  by  "a  fair,  round,  and  plump  woman  of 
about  thirty,"  who,  after  telling  him  that  she  had 
made  the  fortune  of  "a  good  dozen  of  the  most 
famous  advocates  at  the  bar  of  Venice,"  proceeded 
to  tempt  him  with  some  shady  cases,  for  the  conduct 
of  which  he  would  be  well  paid.  "My  good 
woman,"  he  answered,  "I  am  young,  and  entering  on 
my  career;  yet  the  desire  for  work  and  the  itch  for 
pleading  will  never  induce  me  to  undertake  such 
evil  cases  as  you  propose,  for  I  am  a  man  of  honour." 
Seeing  she  could  not  corrupt  him,  she  admonished 
him  to  be  "always  prudent  and  always  honourable," 
and  left  him  "lost  in  astonishment"  at  her  sudden 
change  of  heart,  till  he  learned  that  she  was  a  govern- 
ment spy  who  had  been  sent  to  sound  his  integrity. 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  43 

No  longer  a  precocious  child,  or  a  prankish  stu- 
dent, he  had  embraced  at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  the 
"lucrative  and  honourable"  profession  of  the  law 
and  had  withstood  its  first  temptation.  Still  he  ques- 
tioned whether  he  had  acted  wisely,  his  "stars  hav- 
ing perpetually  thwarted  his  projects."  They  had 
led  him,  too,  into  many  pitfalls,  and  shown  him  more 
of  evil  ways  than  a  young  man  of  his  age  ought  in 
all  conscience  to  have  seen.  Yet  his  youth,  though 
unseemly,  had  been  an  invaluable  school  of  ex- 
perience for  the  life-work  which  he  was  soon  to  un- 
dertake; for  though  he  had  acceded  to  his  mother's 
wishes,  "Thalia,"  to  quote  his  own  words,  "expected 
him  in  her  temple  and  led  him  to  it  through  many 
a  crooked  path,  making  him  endure  the  thorns  and  the 
briers  before  yielding  him  any  of  the  flowers." 


II 

THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT 

ALTHOUGH  Thalia  expected  him  in  her  tem- 
ple, at  no  time  in  his  long  life  was  Goldoni 
so  indifferent  to  her  allurements  as  at  the  mo- 
ment when  he  became  a  Venetian  lawyer.  With  a 
doting  mother  dependent  upon  him,  he  had  acceded 
to  her  wishes  and  was  now  a  member  of  a  profession 
so  honourable  that  "even  a  patrician  would  not  hesi- 
tate to  embrace  it";  and  he  hoped  that  "perseverance 
and  probity  would  lead  him  to  the  temple  of  fortune," 
instead  of  to  Thalia's  shrine.  "I  had  been  admitted 
to  the  bar,"  he  says,  "and  the  next  thing  was  to  pro- 
cure clients";  yet  no  one  sought  his  advice,  except 
"a  few  curious  persons  who  wished  to  sound  him, 
or  shufflers  of  a  dangerous  sort,"  that  being  "the  lot," 
as  he  adds,  "of  all  beginners." 

"Truth  has  always  been  my  favourite  virtue,"  he 
says  in  the  preface  to  his  memoirs,  and  being  forced 
"to  pass  many  hours  alone  in  his  office,"  he  had  an 
abundance  of  time  in  which  to  realize  the  truth  re- 
garding himself.  Although  he  had  held  a  thesis  suc- 
cessfully after  a  night  of  dissipation,  he  had  done  little 
of  which  he  might  be  truly  proud.  He  had  de- 
camped from  one  college  and  had  been  expelled  from 

44 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT    45 

another;  his  love  affairs  had  been  mostly  of  a  scan- 
dalous nature,  and  he  had  shown  a  propensity  for 
gambling,  while  more  than  once  he  had  returned  to 
the  parental  roof  a  prodigal,  seeking  forgiveness; 
yet,  in  spite  of  faults  he  shared  with  the  majority  of 
the  Venetians  of  his  day,  he  was  both  frank  and  kind, 
and  never  "too  proud  to  help  a  friend."  Being 
"neither  lucky  enough  to  call  himself  virtuous,  nor 
unlucky  enough  to  be  carried  away  by  evil  conduct," 
truth  was,  indeed,  his  surpassing  virtue.  The  pages 
of  his  candid  memoirs  teem  with  self-condemnation, 
as  well  as  with  honest  vanity,  few  autobiographers 
having  equalled  him  in  frankness. 

An  easy-going  child  of  an  easy-going  age,  Goldoni 
possessed  what  Mr.  Howells  calls  "the  vagabondiz- 
ing instinct" ; 1  yet  in  the  words  of  that  benign  writer, 
"no  kindlier  creature  seems  ever  to  have  lived,  and 
he  had  traits  of  genuine  modesty  that  made  him  truly 
lovable."  In  youth  and  early  manhood,  the  vaga- 
bondizing instinct  obsessed  him,  for  although  imbued 
with  "the  best  intentions  in  the  world  of  devoting 
himself  to  the  thing  that  interested  him,"  that  thing 
was  the  stage,  and  from  the  moment  he  ran  away 
from  Rimini  with  Florindo's  troupe,  and  the  sou- 
brette  aroused  in  him  "a  strange  sensation,"  Thalia 
expected  him  in  her  temple. 

Though  he  frequented  the  law  courts  in  hope  that 
"his  face  might  prove  sympathetic  to  some  one  with 
a  cause  to  plead,"  that  face  was  far  too  jovial  to  in- 

1  Memoirs  of  Carlo   Goldoni,  translated  from  the  original  French  by 
John  Black,  with  an  essay  by  William  D.  Howells. 


46  GOLDONI 

spire  the  confidence  of  serious  clients;  therefore,  as 
the  theatres  of  Venice  were  closed  for  the  summer, 
to  make  the  time  that  hung  heavily  on  his  idle  hands 
less  wearisome,  he  wrote  an  almanac,2  the  criticisms 
and  pleasantries  of  which  were  of  a  comic  nature,  he 
informs  us,  "while  each  prognostication  might  have 
furnished  the  subject  for  a  comedy." 

"Seized  with  a  desire  to  return  to  his  old  project" 
of  writing  comedies,  he  "sketched  a  few  pieces,"  but, 
"reflecting  that  comedy  did  not  harmonize  with  the 
dignity  of  his  gown,"  he  became  "guilty  of  a  breach 
of  fidelity  to  Thalia,  by  enlisting  under  the  standard 
of  Melpomene,"  for  during  the  days  when  "his  office 
brought  him  in  nothing,"  and  he  was  "under  the  ne- 
cessity of  turning  his  time  to  some  account,"  he  wrote 

/  Amalasontha  (Amalasunta) ,  a  tragedy  for  music, 
destined,  as  will  be  seen,  to  meet  a  tragic  fate. 

i  Although  he  was  "well  pleased  with  his  labour" 
and  "found  people  to  whom  the  reading  of  it  ap- 
peared to  give  satisfaction,"  a  law  case  his  uncle 
Indric  had  obtained  for  him,  caused  him  to  forswear 
Melpomene,  as  well  as  Thalia,  for  the  time  being, 
and  appear  in  a  court  of  law,  a  barrister  in  full  stand- 
ing. Though  opposed  by  Carlo  Cordellina,  "the 
most  learned  and  eloquent  man  at  the  Venetian  bar," 
our  young  lawyer's  "facts  were  so  convincing,"  he  in- 
forms us,  and  "his  reasoning  was  so  good,  his  voice 
so  sonorous,  and  his  eloquence  so  pleasing,"  that  after 

2  L'Esperienza  del  passato,  Astrologo  dell'  avvenire,  Almanacco  crltico 
per  I'anno  1732,  published  anonymously  at  Venice,  1732. 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT    47 

speaking  for  two  hours  and  being  "bathed  in  perspira- 
tion from  head  to  foot,"  he  won  his  case,  and  was 
assured  by  his  lawyer  uncle  that  henceforth  he  would 
never  lack  for  clients,  "it  being  apparent  to  all  that 
he  was  a  man  destined  to  make  his  mark  in  the  world." 
Luckily  for  posterity,  however,  the  career  at  the  bar 
thus  auspiciously  begun  was  cut  short  by  one  of  those 
"inanities  and  absurdities  that  were  ever  crossing  his 
path  to  stop  and  hinder  the  best  intentions  in  the 
world,"  a  farcical  love  affair  being  the  cause  of  a  sud- 
den change  in  his  fortune. 

His  mother  had  become  intimate,  it  appears,  with 
a  "Madame  St.  ,  and  a  "Mademoiselle  Mar 

— ,"  two  sisters  living  in  separate  apartments,  yet 
under  the  same  roof.  Though  forty,  Mademoiselle 

Mar was  still  "fresh  as  a  rose,  white  as  snow, 

and  agreeably  plump,"  and  as  she  was  rich,  Goldoni 
decided  it  would  be  to  his  advantage  to  marry  her; 
therefore,  he  enlisted  his  mother  in  his  cause,  she 
promising  to  make  the  customary  parental  advances. 
Though  "the  lovers  understood  each  other,"  Madame 
Goldoni  moved  very  cautiously,  and  meanwhile  an 

ugly  daughter  of  Madame  St.  began  to  use 

her  roguish  black  eyes  on  the  young  lawyer  so  effec- 
tively, that  Mademoiselle  Mar became  jealous 

of  her  niece,  and  to  show  her  displeasure  began  to 
receive  the  attentions  of  a  patrician  fortune-hunter. 
"Seeing  himself  deprived  of  the  place  of  honour  he 
had  occupied,"  Goldoni,  in  pique,  began  to  make 
love  to  the  niece,  and  became  so  completely  ena- 


48  GOLDONI 

moured  of  his  "ugly  mistress,"  that  he  drew  up  "a 
marriage  contract,  regular  and  formal  in  every  re- 
spect," by  the  terms  of  which  he  was  to  be  endowed 
with  all  the  young  lady's  income  while  her  mother's 
diamonds  were  to  be  given  to  her. 

Although  he  thus  proved  himself  an  able  solici- 
tor, in  both  a  legal  and  an  amorous  sense,  he  con- 
tinued to  flirt  with  Mademoiselle  Mar  ,  the 

aunt,  whose  patrician  suitor,  meanwhile,  had  asked 
for  the  half  of  her  fortune  as  a  marriage  settlement, 
and  the  bequeathal  of  the  other  half  upon  her  death. 
These  demands  appeared  modest  in  comparison  with 
those  Goldoni  had  imposed  upon  her  niece;  yet 

Mademoiselle  Mar  was  seized  with  such 

"transports  of  rage,  hatred,  and  contempt"  that  she 
gave  her  noble  suitor  the  mitten.  Although  she  "al- 
most died  of  grief,"  she  recovered  sufficiently  to  en- 
deavour to  bring  Goldoni  to  her  feet  once  more ;  the 
part  he  then  played  being  "perfidious,"  in  his  opin- 
ion. 

His  perfidy  seems  trivial,  however,  in  comparison 
with  the  dual  fortune  hunt  in  which  he  had  engaged, 
since  it  consisted  in  an  offence  no  more  heinous  than 
the  writing  of  some  love  verses  which  were  set  to  music 
by  a  friend  and  sung  by  a  professional  singer  before 
the  door  of  the  apartment  house  in  which  both  lady- 
loves dwelt.  Each  thought  the  serenade  a  tribute 
to  her  own  charms,  and  the  upshot  was  that  Goldoni, 
being  forced  to  declare  himself,  eschewed  the  aunt 
and  accepted  the  niece.  But  in  spite  of  the  advan- 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT    49 

tageous  contract  he  had  drawn,  the  fortune  of  his 
"ugly  mistress"  did  not  materialize,  since  it  consisted 
solely  in  the  expectation  of  "one  of  those  life  annui- 
ties destined  by  the  republic  for  a  certain  number  of 
the  daughters  of  impoverished  patricians,"  of  whom 
Goldoni's  fiancee  was  fourth  in  the  line  of  succession. 
Moreover,  her  mother  refused  to  part  with  her  dia- 
monds during  her  own  lifetime.  Goldoni's  law 
practice  yielded  him  nothing  and  he  had  contracted 
debts,  therefore  he  saw  himself  "standing  on  the 
brink  of  a  precipice" ;  but  after  sustaining  "a  distress- 
ing conflict  between  love  and  reason,  the  latter  fac- 
ulty gained  at  last  a  complete  dominion  over  his 
senses." 

His  mother  mortgaged  her  property  to  pay  his 
debts ;  yet,  despite  the  fact  that  he  had  just  made  a 
successful  debut  in  court  "amid  the  acclamations  of 
the  bar,"  she  agreed  with  him  that  "in  order  to  avoid 
ruin,  some  violent  resolution  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary"; therefore  he  decided  to  flee  from  Venice. 
Leaving  "his  country,  his  relatives,  his  friends,  his 
love,  his  hopes,  and  his  profession,"  he  left,  too,  a 
letter  for  the  mother  of  his  betrothed,  in  which  he 
promised  to  return  and  wed  her  daughter,  whenever 
the  conditions  of  the  marriage  contract  should  be 
fulfilled;  then  taking  to  the  high-road  with  his 
"treasure,"  the  turgid  manuscript  of  Amalasontha,  he 
turned  vagabond  steps  toward  Lombardy,  in  the  fond 
hope  of  selling  that  lyrical  tragedy  to  the  opera  at 
Milan  for  a  hundred  sequins. 


50  GOLDONI 

On  the  way  thither,  he  stopped  a  few  days  at  Vi- 
cenza,  where  he  read  Amalasontha  to  Count  Trissino 
of  the  family  of  the  renaissance  poet  of  that  name. 
Though  wisely  advised  by  this  scion  of  a  poetic  house 
to  be  constant  to  Thalia,  he  fared  on  to  Verona,  with 
the  hope  of  meeting  Scipione  Maflei,  a  dramatist, 
who  was  then  striving  vainly  to  elevate  the  Italian 
stage;  but  failing  to  find  this  patrician  author  on  the 
banks  of  the  Adige,  he  took  the  Brescia  road.  Meet- 
ing at  Desenzano  a  friendly  priest  who  was  journey- 
ing to  Salo,  he  accompanied  him  to  that  lakeside 
town,  for  the  purpose  of  collecting  the  rents  of  a 
house  his  mother  owned  there,  he  being,  as  he  says, 
"very  short  of  money."  As  his  mother  had  mort- 
gaged her  property  to  pay  his  debts,  she  must  have 
been  short  of  money,  too ;  yet  he  pocketed  her  rents 
without  compunction.  Journeying  on  to  Brescia,  he 
read  Amalasontha  to  the  governor's  assessor  and  a 
party  of  his  friends,  who  "listened  to  it  attentively 
and  applauded  it  unanimously" ;  yet  to  this  judicious 
assembly,  the  young  author's  style  appeared  more 
adapted  to  tragedy  than  opera;  therefore,  he  was  ad- 
vised to  suppress  the  lyrics,  and  make  Amalasontha 
purely  a  tragedy. 

Scorning  this  sage  counsel,  he  started  for  Milan, 
confident  that  its  opera  would  soon  vindicate  him. 
At  Bergamo,  he  tarried  long  enough  to  borrow  ten 
sequins  from  the  governor  of  that  craggy  city  and 
obtain  from  his  wife  letters  of  introduction  to  per- 
sons of  influence  in  Milan,  their  excellencies  being 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT     51 

none  other  than  the  Podesta  of  Chioggia  and  his  con- 
sort, whose  praises  Goldoni  had  sung  in  verse  while 
holding  in  that  town  the  office  of  coadjutor's  assistant. 
Having  thus  received  back  the  bread  he  had  once 
cast  upon  the  waters  of  courtesy,  he  hastened  to  Milan, 
where  he  alighted  at  a  famous  inn,  because,  as  he  says, 
"when  you  wish  to  show  yourself  to  advantage,  you 
must  appear  rich,  even  when  not  so."  Upon  pre- 
senting to  Orazio  Bartolini,  the  Venetian  minister 
resident,  the  letter  of  introduction  given  him  by  the 
wife  of  the  governor  of  Bergamo,  he  was  received 
by  that  diplomat  in  "a  most  frank  and  encouraging 
way."  Bartolini  laughed  heartily  at  Goldoni's  re- 
cital of  the  story  of  the  amorous  mishap  that  led  him 
to  flee  from  Venice,  and  offered  to  assist  him  finan- 
cially; but  the  young  wanderer  still  possessed  a  few 
of  the  governor  of  Bergamo's  sequins  as  well  as  his 
precious  Amalasontha;  therefore  he  declined  this 
generous  offer,  and  went  forth  hopefully  to  present 
his  lyrical  tragedy  to  the  management  of  the  opera. 

Both  Caffariello,  the  leading  tenor,  and  Madame 
Grossatesta,  the  premiere  danseuse,  were  Venetians 
with  whom  he  was  already  acquainted,  and  through 
the  kind  offices  of  the  latter,  he  met  the  principal 
singers  of  the  opera,  as  well  as  Count  Francesco 
Prata,  one  of  its  directors,  who  forthwith  invited  him 
to  read  Amalasontha  to  the  company  assembled  in 
La  Grossatesta's  drawing-room.  Goldoni's  account 
of  this  reading  paints  so  vividly  the  vain  ways  of 
stage  folk,  that  the  reader  familiar  with  theatrical 


52  GOLDONI 

life  should  enjoy  its  description  of  the  ruthless  way 
in  which  his  hopes  were  crushed : 

A  small  table  and  a  candle  were  brought,  round  which  we 
seated  ourselves,  and  I  began  to  read.  I  announced  the  title  as 
Amalasontha,  whereupon  Cafrariello  sang  the  word  Amalasontha. 
It  was  long  and  to  him  it  seemed  ridiculous;  everybody  laughed, 
but  I  did  not  laugh;  the  lady  of  the  house  scolded;  the  night- 
ingale became  silent.  I  read  the  names  of  the  characters,  of 
whom  there  were  nine,  and  at  this  the  small  voice  of  an  old 
male  soprano  who  sang  in  the  chorus  and  mewed  like  a  cat,  was 
heard  to  say:  "Too  many,  too  many,  there  are  at  least  two  char- 
acters too  many."  I  realized  that  I  was  ill  at  ease,  and  wished 
to  stop  the  reading.  Silencing  this  insolent  fellow,  who  had  not 
the  talent  of  Caffariello  to  excuse  him,  M.  Prata  turned  to  me 
and  said:  "It  is  true,  sir,  that  ordinarily  there  are  but  six  or 
seven  characters  in  an  opera,  but  when  a  work  is  deserving  of  it, 
we  gladly  incur  the  expense  of  two  additional  actors.  Be  so  kind, 
if  you  please,  as  to  continue  the  reading." 

I  resumed  my  reading:  "Act  first,  scene  first;  Clodesile  and 
Arpagon,"  whereupon  M.  Caffariello  asked  me  the  name  of 
the  leading  tenor  part  in  my  opera.  "Sir,"  said  I,  "it  is  Clodesile." 
"What!"  he  replied,  "you  open  with  the  principal  artist,  you  have 
him  enter  when  everybody  is  being  seated  and  making  a  noise! 
Egad,  I  am  not  your  man."  (What  patience!)  Here  M.  Prata 
interrupted.  "Let  us  see,"  said  he,  "if  the  scene  is  interesting!" 
I  read  the  first  scene,  and  while  I  was  reciting  my  verses,  an  im- 
potent weakling  drew  a  manuscript  from  his  pocket  and,  going  to 
the  harpsichord,  began  to  rehearse  a  song  from  his  part.  The 
hostess  made  endless  excuses;  taking  me  by  the  hand,  M.  Prata 
led  me  to  a  boudoir,  remote  from  the  main  room,  and  seating  him- 
self beside  me,  M.  le  Comte  pacified  me  regarding  the  ill  conduct 
of  a  company  of  giddy  brains,  and  at  the  same  time  begged  me  to 
read  my  drama  to  him  alone,  in  order  that  he  might  judge  it  and 
tell  me  his  sincere  opinion. 

After  the  budding  author  had  read  his  play  "from 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT     53 

the  first  verse  to  the  last,"  the  Count,  who  had  "lis- 
tened patiently,"  pointed  out  its  innumerable  defects 
in  a  spirit  both  kindly  and  wise. 

Overcome  with  chagrin  by  Count  Prata's  criticism, 
Goldoni  returned,  crestfallen,  to  his  lodging,  and  re- 
fusing to  sup,  ordered  a  fire.  "My  piece  is  good,"  he 
exclaimed,  his  "treasure"  still  in  his  trembling  hand. 
"I  am  certain  of  it;  but  the  theatre  is  bad;  and  the 
actors,  actresses,  composers,  and  scene-painters — may 
the  devil  take  them  all!  And  thou,  unlucky  produc- 
tion, that  hast  cost  me  so  much  labour  and  deceived 
my  hopes  and  expectations,  I  consign  thee  to  devour- 
ing flames." 

Having  pronounced  this  requiem,  he  threw  Ama- 
lasontha  into  the  fire,  and  watching  it  burn  with  "a 
sort  of  cool  complacency,"  stirred  the  ashes;  then  or- 
dering supper,  he  "ate  heartily  and  drank  still  more," 
whereupon  he  went  to  bed  "and  enjoyed  a  profound 
sleep."  On  the  morrow,  he  awoke  two  hours  earlier 
than  usual,  and  "plucking  up  courage,"  paid  his  re- 
spects to  the  Venetian  minister,  who  on  hearing  the 
tale  of  his  discomfiture,  forthwith  attached  him  to 
his  staff,  in  the  quality  of  a  gentleman  of  the  cham- 
ber. His  official  duties  being  chiefly  to  "pay  com- 
plimentary calls  upon  travelling  Venetians  of  noble 
birth,  or  to  wait  upon  the  Governor  and  magistrates 
of  Milan  in  the  business  of  the  Republic,"  Goldoni 
found  himself,  as  he  confesses,  "rather  a  gainer  than 
a  loser  by  the  failure  which  he  had  sustained." 

Having  considerable  time  at  his  disposal  in  which 


54  GOLDONI 

"to  amuse  himself  or  do  as  he  pleased,"  he  met  during 
these  idle  hours  a  charlatan  named  Buonafede  Vitali, 
whose  nom  de  guerre  was  The  Anonymous  (IL'A- 
nonimo).  Born  of  a  good  family  and  educated  as  a 
Jesuit,  "this  singular  man,"  as  Goldoni  styles  him, 
"to  whom  no  science  was  unknown,"  was  a  quack  dis- 
penser of  opiates  and  drugs  like  L'Orietan  and  Bary, 
the  famous  operateurs  whom  Moliere  saw  on  the 
Pont-Neuf  during  his  youth;  like  them,  too,  he  em- 
ployed a  troupe  of  buffoons  to  attract  customers. 

For  the  purpose  of  studying  his  character,  Goldoni 
consulted  The  Anonymous,  but  the  quack  quickly 
discovered  that  curiosity  and  not  illness  had  brought 
the  young  Venetian  to  his  booth;  therefore,  he  pre- 
scribed a  cup  of  chocolate  as  "the  most  suitable  rem- 
edy for  his  disease";  and  soon  these  two  wanderers 
with  "the  vagabondizing  instinct"  were  cronies. 
By  obtaining,  through  the  influence  of  the  Venetian 
minister,  an  engagement  at  the  Milan  theatre  for 
the  buffoons  of  The  Anonymous,  Goldoni  did  this 
charlatan  a  good  turn,  and  as  the  future  dramatist 
wrote,  for  performance  during  this  engagement,  The 
Venetian  Gondolier  (II  Gondoliere  veneziano),  a 
musical  interlude  which  was  "the  first  of  his  comedy 
efforts  to  appear  in  public,"  The  Anonymous  was  the 
first  manager  to  produce  one  of  his  plays,  a  distinc- 
tion whereby  his  name  survives  his  quackery.  More- 
over, an  actor  in  this  charlatan's  company,  named 
Gaetano  Casali,  gave  Goldoni  his  first  serious  com- 
mission, for  when  "a  detestable  piece,"  called  Belts- 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT     55 

arius  (Belisario),  was  produced  at  the  Milan  theatre 
during  the  engagement  of  The  Anonymous's  troupe, 
the  young  playwright  analysed  its  faults  so  indispu- 
tably, that  Casali,  who  expected  to  appear  shortly 
on  the  Venetian  stage,  persuaded  him  to  undertake 
the  making  of  "a  good  piece  out  of  a  bad  one."  A 
few  days  later,  Goldoni  read  to  Casali  the  first  act  of 
his  own  version  of  Belisarius,  that  Thespian  being 
delighted  with  it;  but  before  the  aspiring  author 
could  finish  his  tragi-comedy,  several  events  trans- 
pired to  divert  his  mind  into  channels  remote  from 
the  drama. 

There  were  rumours  of  war  in  Lombardy,  and  the 
Venetian  minister,  upon  being  called  home  on  private 
business,  charged  his  young  gentleman  of  the  cham- 
ber with  the  writing  of  a  daily  letter  regarding  the 
political  situation.  The  importance  of  this  duty  lay 
so  lightly  on  Goldoni's  shoulders,  however,  that  he 
soon  became  enmeshed  in  the  toils  of  an  adventuress. 

While  lunching  at  a  suburban  inn  with  a  friend 
named  Carrara,  he  saw  a  pretty  girl  in  a  window  and 
learned  from  the  landlord  that  she  was  a  Venetian 
who  had  come  to  his  hostelry  a  few  days  before,  ac- 
companied by  a  gentleman  of  "respectable  appear- 
ance," who  had  since  disappeared.  Thinking  this 
fair  compatriot  might  be  in  distress,  Goldoni  knocked 
at  her  door,  and  on  being  admitted,  listened  to  a  pa- 
thetic tale,  told  amid  a  flood  of  tears,  while  Carrara 
— wise  man  of  the  world — stood  in  the  doorway, 
laughing.  The  lady  gave  her  name  as  Margherita 


56  GOLDONI 

Biondi,  though  the  credulous  knight-errant  after- 
wards learned  that  this  was  not  her  real  name.  She 
was  of  good  birth,  she  told  him,  but  having  fallen  in 
love  with  a  man  of  superior  station,  his  family  had 
opposed  their  marriage  so  assiduously,  that,  aided  by 
a  maternal  uncle  who  adored  her,  she  had  eloped 
with  her  patrician  lover.  She  had  been  pursued ;  but 
though  her  uncle  had  been  captured  and  thrown  into 
prison,  she  had  escaped  to  Milan  with  her  lover,  who, 
alas,  had  gone  out  on  the  morning  after  their  arrival, 
and  had  never  returned. 

Goldoni  was  so  affected  by  "the  gushing  tears  of 
this  languishing  beauty,"  that  he  forthwith  hired  a 
furnished  apartment  for  her,  and  began  to  use  his 
diplomatic  influence  to  the  end  of  obtaining  her 
uncle's  release  from  prison.  "He  could  refuse  her 
nothing,"  he  confesses,  and  he  "visited  her  fre- 
quently" ;  but  his  good  fortune  was  of  short  duration, 
since  his  servant  burst  into  his  room  one  morning  with 
the  exciting  news  that  "fifteen  thousand  Savoyards, 
horse  and  foot,  had  taken  possession  of  Milan  and 
were  drawn  up  in  the  cathedral  square."  "We  were 
at  the  commencement  of  the  War  of  1733,"  he  says, 
"called  the  War  of  Don  Carlos,3  and  the  King  of  Sar- 

3  During  the  War  of  the  Polish  Succession  (1733-1735),  the  allied 
French  and  Sardinian  armies,  commanded  by  the  veteran  Marshal  Villars, 
entered  Milan,  then  an  Austrian  possession,  on  the  night  of  Nov.  3,  1733, 
and  after  possessing  themselves  of  the  town,  laid  siege  to  the  citadel, 
which  capitulated  on  Jan.  2,  1734.  Don  Carlos  (afterwards  King 
Charles  III  of  Spain),  the  prince  of  whom  Goldoni  here  speaks,  was  the 
son  of  Philip  V  of  Spain  by  his  second  wife,  Elizabeth  Farnese,  an 
Italian,  for  whom  the  Duchy  of  Parma  had  been  created  by  the  Pope. 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT    57 

dinia,  having  declared  himself  for  that  Prince, 
had  united  his  forces  with  those  of  France  and  Spain, 
against  the  house  of  Austria."  Goldoni's  chief 
thought,  however,  was  not  of  the  politics  that  had 
caused  the  invasion  of  Milan,  but  of  the  safety  of 
Margherita  Biondi,  for  when  the  Franco-Sardinian 
army  laid  siege  to  the  citadel,  the  street  where  she 
dwelt  was  within  the  range  of  shot  and  shell.  "I 
confided  her,"  he  tells  us,  "to  the  care  of  a  Genoese 
merchant,  in  whose  house  I  could  only  see  her  in  the 
midst  of  a  numerous  and  excessively  punctilious  fam- 
ily." 

When  the  Venetian  Legation  was  removed  shortly 
thereafter  to  Crema,  a  frontier  town,  the  young  at- 
tache was  obliged  to  say  farewell  to  his  fair 
Venetian,  "who  wept  on  hearing  the  news,  and 
seemed  quite  inconsolable."  His  first  care,  on  arriv- 
ing at  Crema,  was  to  visit  the  jail  where  her  supposed 
uncle — a  chevalier  d' Industrie  named  Scacciati — 
was  confined;  but  he  had  already  departed,  Goldoni's 
efforts  having  secured  his  release.  From  his  friend 
Carrara,  our  young  Venetian  learned  that  the  rogue 
had  joined  Margherita  in  Milan.  "In  delivering 
over  to  him  a  girl  who  was  a  burden  to  you,  and  by 
no  means  deserving  of  your  care,  I  have  rendered  you 

As  her  step-son,  Don  Ferdinand,  was  still  living  and  therefore  heir  to 
the  throne  of  Spain,  this  ambitious  queen  desired  a  crown  for  Don  Carlos, 
her  own  son.  In  1720,  Sicily  and  Naples  had  been  ceded  to  Austria, 
but  as  an  outcome  of  the  War  of  the  Polish  Succession,  Don  Carlos  ob- 
tained through  the  efforts  of  his  ambitious  mother  and  his  own  military 
valour,  the  crown  of  the  kingdom  of  the  Two  Sicilies;  hence  in  Italy  this 
war  was  known  as  the  War  of  Don  Carlos. 


58  GOLDONI 

a  useful  service,"  wrote  Carrara;  and  "at  a  distance 
from  this  enchanting  object,"  says  Goldoni,  "I  owned 
that  my  friend  had  conducted  himself  with  great 
propriety." 

Being  dissatisfied  with  the  behaviour  of  his  secre- 
tary, the  Venetian  minister  installed  Goldoni  in  his 
stead,  and  for  a  few  months  this  susceptible  young 
man  discharged  his  official  duties  satisfactorily. 
When  Pizzighettone,  a  town  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Crema,  was  besieged,  he  was  sent  during  an  armis- 
tice to  the  camp  of  the  allies,  "in  the  quality  of  an 
honourable  spy."  The  observations  he  made  while 
there  were  to  be  used  profitably  by  him,  some  twenty- 
seven  years  later,  as  the  inspiration  of  a  spirited  com- 
edy.4 Meanwhile  he  enjoyed  the  festivities  he  thus 
describes : 

A  bridge  thrown  over  the  breach  afforded  a  communication  be- 
tween the  besiegers  and  the  besieged ;  tables  were  laid  everywhere, 
and  the  officers  entertained  one  another.  Both  without  and  within, 
under  tents  and  in  bowers,  balls,  banquets,  and  concerts  were 
given.  All  the  inhabitants  of  the  neighbourhood  flocked  there,  on 
foot,  on  horseback  and  in  carriages;  provisions  arrived  from  every 
quarter;  abundance  was  established  instantly,  while  charlatans  and 
mountebanks  did  not  fail  to  hurry  thither;  it  was  a  charming 
fair,  a  delightful  resort. 

When  Pizzighettone  surrendered,  the  theatre  of 
the  war  moved  farther  south,  whereupon  Goldonrs 
diplomatic  labours  were  so  lightened  that  he  found 
time  to  finish  his  tragi-comedy  Belisarius.  Then 
Gian  Paolo,  his  brother,  appeared  at  Crema  to  af- 

4  La  Guerra. 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT     59 

flict  him.  Upon  the  death  of  the  soldier  who  had 
taken  charge  of  his  military  education,  this  ne'er-do- 
well  had  resigned  from  the  Venetian  service,  and 
having  failed  in  his  efforts  to  obtain  a  commission 
in  the  army  of  the  Duke  of  Modena,  he  besought  his 
brother's  help ;  but  no  sooner  had  Goldoni  obtained 
for  him  his  own  former  post  of  gentleman  of  the 
chamber,  than  Gian  Paolo  began  to  quarrel  with  the 
minister.  Being  promptly  dismissed,  he  took  his 
leave  "in  a  very  ill  humour,"  Goldoni  says,  "and  his 
bad  conduct  so  injured  me  in  the  mind  of  the  minis- 
ter, that  he  never  afterward  showed  me  the  same  kind- 
ness and  friendship." 

Yet  the  young  diplomat's  own  delinquencies  were 
not  inconsequential.  One  day  when  engaged  in 
copying  a  state  paper,  he  heard  a  knock  at  his  door, 
his  visitor  being  Scacciati,  the  pseudo-uncle  of  Mar- 
gherita  Biondi.  On  learning  that  this  fair  quean  was 
at  a  neighbouring  inn,  he  hurriedly  finished  his  work, 
then  spent  the  night  in  revelry.  Discovering  his  ab- 
sence, his  chief  accused  him  of  having  gone  forth  to 
sell  the  secrets  of  the  document  he  had  copied  to  a 
rival  diplomat,  the  fact  that  he  had  been  carousing 
instead,  being  considered  no  palliation.  As  young 
Goldoni  was  "unwilling  to  expose  himself  to  more 
such  unpleasant  scenes,"  he  resigned  his  secretary- 
ship and  departed  in  a  humble  hired  chaise  for  Mo- 
dena, where  his  mother  then  resided.  Once  more, 
his  treasure  was  a  tragedy,  for  he  took  with  him  the 
manuscript  of  Belisarius. 


60  GOLDONI 

At  Parma  he  witnessed  a  battle  between  the  Allies 
and  the  Austrians  (June  29,  1734),  which  he  de- 
scribes graphically  in  his  memoirs,  "the  most  horri- 
ble and  disgusting  spectacle,"  to  his  mind,  being  the 
field  on  the  following  day,  where  thousands  of  bodies, 
stripped  by  ghouls  during  the  night,  "lay  naked  in 
heaps."  The  road  to  Modena  being  infested  by  the 
stragglers  of  both  armies,  he  left  the  Parmesan  bat- 
tle-field for  Brescia,  accompanied  by  a  young  priest 
who  "loved  the  stage."  Author-like,  Goldoni  "took 
care  to  mention  Bellsarius"  and  was  reading  it  aloud 
to  his  sacerdotal  companion  when  their  chaise  was 
suddenly  halted  by  five  armed  men  in  military  uni- 
form, who  forthwith  proceeded  to  despoil  the  bud- 
ding dramatist  of  his  "purse,  watch,  and  small  box," 
the  priest  "being  treated  in  like  manner." 

While  these  military  highwaymen  were  ransack- 
ing the  baggage,  the  driver  whipped  up  his  horses 
and  escaped.  Regardless  of  what  might  befall  the 
priest,  Goldoni  meanwhile  took  to  flight  as  well, 
happy  in  the  fact  that  he  had  "saved  Bellsarius  from 
the  wreck."  Running  until  he  fell  exhausted  by  a 
stream,  its  "delicious  water"  so  revived  him  that  he 
managed  to  reach  some  peasants  he  saw  labouring  in  a 
field.  They  proved  to  be  kindly  men,  who  shared 
their  humble  evening  meal  with  him,  and  one  of  their 
number  conducted  him  to  Casal  Pusterlengo,5  a  town 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Lodi,  where  he  found  cheer 
and  a  lodging  beneath  the  hospitable  roof  of  the 

5  Erroneously  called  Casal  Pasturlengo  by  Goldoni. 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT    61 

parish  priest.  His  literary  ardour,  however,  was 
not  dampened  by  these  mishaps,  since  on  the  follow- 
ing evening  he  read  Belisarius  to  an  audience  com- 
posed of  priests  and  villagers  who  "proved  by  their 
applause  that  his  work  was  suited  to  every  capacity 
and  equally  capable  of  pleasing  the  learned  and  the 
ignorant." 

Profuse  in  his  compliments,  his  amiable  host  lent 
Goldoni  a  horse  and  a  servant,  but  when  he  reached 
Brescia  he  was  penniless.  In  his  hour  of  need,  he 
met  Scacciati  in  the  street,  who  proved  himself  a 
grateful  rogue,  since  he  loaned  him  six  sequins  and 
refused  to  take  his  note  of  hand.  Scacciatiis  pseudo- 
niece  was  at  Brescia,  too,  and  needless  to  say,  she  re- 
ceived Goldoni  with  open  arms.  Moreover,  she  told 
him  the  story  of  her  life,  which  he  thus  relates: 

Scacciati  was  not  her  uncle,  but  a  knave  who  had  carried  her 
off  from  her  parents  and  sold  her  to  a  rich  man,  who  left  her 
within  two  months,  after  having  paid  the  broker  more  handsomely 
than  the  lady.  She  was  tired  of  living  with  this  drone,  who  spent 
profusely  what  she  gained  with  repugnance.  .  .  .  She  wished  to 
get  rid  of  him  and  asked  my  advice  regarding  the  execution  of  her 
project.  Had  I  been  rich,  I  should  have  freed  her  from  her 
tyrant;  but  in  my  present  circumstances  I  could  give  her  no  other 
advice  than  to  apply  to  her  relatives,  and  seek  to  be  reconciled 
with  those  who  had  a  right  to  reclaim  her. 

Though  unconscionable,  these  adventurers  were 
kind  to  Goldoni.  Besides  loaning  him  money,  they 
gave  him  a  night's  lodging  and  a  meal;  but  he  re- 
fused their  invitation  to  tarry  in  Brescia,  and  on  the 


62  GOLDONI 

morrow  he  set  out  for  Verona.  "I  saw  the  lady  some 
years  later,"  he  says,  "very  well  married  in  Venice; 
but  M.  Scacciati  finished  his  career  by  being  sen- 
tenced to  the  galleys." 

At  Verona,  the  tide  of  Goldoni's  ill  fortunes  turned. 
A  theatrical  company  was  playing  there  on  a  tem- 
porary stage  erected  in  the  Roman  amphitheatre ;  and 
being  attracted  thither  by  the  play-bills,  to  his  joy 
he  recognized  in  the  actor  who  addressed  the  public 
before  the  performance,  the  Casali  who  had  commis- 
sioned him  to  write  Belisarius.  Making  his  way  to 
the  stage,  he  was  warmly  greeted  by  Casali,  who  in- 
troduced him  to  Giuseppe  Imer,  the  manager,  "a 
man  of  intellect  and  information  who  was  passion- 
ately fond  of  comedy."  Imer's  company  played  dur- 
ing the  autumn  and  winter  at  the  San  Samuele  thea- 
tre in  Venice,  belonging  to  a  patrician  family,  named 
Grimani,  and  at  Casali's  instigation  Goldoni  was  in- 
vited to  read  Belisarius  to  this  metropolitan  troupe.8 

"My  play  was  listened  to  with  attention,"  he  tells 
us,  and  at  the  conclusion  "the  applause  was  general 
and  complete."  "Imer  took  me  by  the  hand,"  he 
continues,  "and  in  a  magisterial  tone  said,  'Bravo  P 
while  Casali  exclaimed,  'M.  Goldoni  did  me  the  hon- 
our to  labour  for  me.'  "  When  the  members  of  this 
troupe  learned  that  The  Singer  (La  Gantatrice]  ,7  a 

6  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  Zanetta    (Maria  Giovanna)    Casanova, 
mother  of  the  arch-adventurer  of  that  name,  was  a  member  of  Imer's 
troupe  at  this  time. 

7  According  to  Goldoni,  La  Cantatrice  had  been  plagiarized  by  a  young 
Venetian  lawyer  named  Gori,  and  put  forth  as  his  own  work. 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT     63 

musical  interlude  they  had  been  giving  successfully, 
had  been  written  by  Goldoni  at  Feltre,  four  years  pre- 
viously, they  needed  no  further  proof  of  his  "quali- 
ties as  a  dramatic  poet."  Belisarius  was  accepted 
forthwith,  and  as  a  mark  of  the  manager's  "particular 
gratitude,"  its  author  received  a  present  of  six  se- 
quins, which  he  despatched  to  Scacciati,  in  repayment 
of  the  loan  that  rogue  had  made  him. 

"Such  is  my  system,"  he  says.  "I  have  always  en- 
deavoured to  avoid  meanness ;  yet  I  have  never  been 
proud.  I  have  helped,  whenever  it  lay  in  my  power 
to  do  so,  those  who  were  in  need  of  my  assistance. 
Moreover,  I  have  received  help  without  embarrass- 
ment and  have  even  asked  for  it  unblushingly  when- 
ever I  needed  it." 

Goldoni  reached  Verona  in  the  summer  (1734), 
and  at  the  end  of  September  he  departed  for  Venice 
with  Imer  and  his  troupe;  meanwhile  he  had  written 
the  libretto  of  a  musical  interlude,8  and  before  the 
company  left  Verona,  the  parts  of  Belisarius  had  been 
distributed.  Indeed,  that  summer  marks  the  com- 
mencement of  his  career  as  a  professional  dramatist, 
The  Venetian  Gondolier,  a  pretty  trifle  he  had  writ- 
ten for  The  Anonymous,  being  merely  its  prologue. 
At  Milan  he  was  a  dilettante  writing  for  pleasure; 
whereas  at  Verona  he  was  a  penniless  vagabond  seek- 
ing a  livelihood. 

Upon  reaching  Venice,  Goldoni  learned  that  his 
mother,  who  was  still  at  Modena,  had  paid  "nearly 

*LaPupilla. 


64  GOLDONI 

all  his  debts."  He  feared,  however,  that  Madame 
St. and  her  daughter  might  still  entertain  matri- 
monial designs  regarding  him,  till  his  aunt  assured 
him  that  "these  high-minded  ladies,  on  learning  that 
he  had  entered  into  an  engagement  with  a  troupe  of 
actors,  had  pronounced  him  unworthy  to  approach 
them." 

His  mind  being  thus  relieved,  he  was  able  to  work 
untrammelled  at  his  new  profession.  Meeting 
Michele  Grimani,  one  of  five  brothers  who  owned 
the  San  Samuele  theatre,  he  was  received  by  him 
"with  great  kindness,"  and  engaged  to  work  for  the 
troupe  of  which  Imer  was  the  head ;  whereupon  he 
began  the  composition  of  Rosamond  (Rosmonda],  a 
tragedy,  and  The  Scamp  (La  Birba] ,  an  interlude  in- 
spired by  the  impostors  he  had  seen  duping  the  public 
in  the  Piazza  San  Marco.  "The  comic  traits  I  made 
use  of  in  my  interludes  were  so  much  seed,"  he  says, 
"sowed  by  me  in  my  field,  in  order  that  I  might  some 
day  gather  ripe  and  agreeable  fruit" ;  yet,  ere  he  gar- 
nered that  delightful  harvest,  his  field  was  parched 
by  dry  tragedy  and  all  but  laid  waste. 

On  the  twenty-fourth  of  November  (1734),  Bell- 
sarlus  was  produced  at  the  San  Samuele  theatre  with 
such  success  that  "some  of  the  actors  wept,  while  oth- 
ers laughed,  from  the  same  feeling  of  joy."  More- 
over, when  a  different  play  was  announced  for  the 
following  evening,  the  audience  demanded  Belisar- 
ius;  yet  he  who  reads  this  dull  tragi-comedy  to-day 
can  but  wonder  at  this  enthusiasm,  so  turgid  are  its 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT    65 

pompous  lines.  This  play,  however,  scored  phe- 
nomenally, although  Rosamond,  its  successor,  had  to 
be  sustained  after  four  performances  by  the  merri- 
ment of  The  Scamp.  Goldoni  had  made  a  distinct 
impression  in  the  theatrical  world  of  Venice,  never- 
theless, and  soon  was  engaged  by  Grimani  to  rewrite 
the  libretto  of  Griselda,  an  opera  by  Zeno  and  Pari- 
ati,  the  music  to  be  written  by  the  Abbe  Vivaldi, 
known  as  //  prete  rosso,  because  of  his  red  hair. 

When  the  young  dramatist  conferred  with  this 
priest  regarding  the  changes  to  be  made  in  Griselda, 
he  found  him  "surrounded  by  music  and  with  a  brevi- 
ary in  his  hand."  Whenever  there  was  a  lull  in  the 
conversation,  Vivaldi,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
resumed  his  breviary,  then  walking  about,  he  cited 
psalms  and  hymns;  yet  he  became,  nevertheless,  so 
impressed  by  Goldoni's  lyrics,  that  he  embraced  him 
when  they  parted,  and  vowed  he  would  never  collab- 
orate with  any  other  poet. 

During  the  summer  of  1735,  which  he  spent  trav- 
elling with  Imer's  troupe  on  the  mainland,  Goldoni 
made  a  versified  tragedy  of  Griselda,  as  a  vehicle  for 
an  actress  known  as  La  Romana,  and  at  Udine  wrote 
The  Foundation  of  Venice  (La  Fondazione  di  Vene- 
zia)  which  he  describes  as  "perhaps  the  first  opera 
comique  that  had  ever  appeared  in  the  Venetian 
States."  9  However,  as  these  early  dramatic  efforts  are 

9  The  first  opera  comique  produced  in  the  Venetian  States  was  Elisa, 
libretto  by  Domenico  Lalli,  music  by  Giovan  Maria  Ruggeri  (1711),  and 
given  at  the  Sant'  Angelo.  See  Scherillo:  La  prima  commedia  musicale 
a  Venezia,  in  Giorn.  stor.  della  Lett.  ital.  (1883). 


66  GOLDONI 

considered  in  an  ensuing  chapter,  they  shall  give  place 
for  the  moment  to  their  author's  love  affairs,  of  which 
there  were  several  to  harass  him  during  his  engage- 
ment with  Imer's  troupe,  the  proximity  of  pretty  ac- 
tresses making  him  fall  an  easy  victim  to  their  wiles. 
The  first  of  these  to  whom  he  paid  court  assidu- 
ously was  Anjonia  Ferramonti,  whom  he  styles  "a 
charming  actress,  very  beautiful,  very  amiable,  and 
very  intelligent."  He  was  "not  long  in  discerning 
her  merits,"  he  tells  us,  and  like  many  another  in- 
iquitous admirer  of  a  wife,  he  cultivated  her  hus- 
band's friendship.  On  the  way  to  Udine,  instead  of 
accepting  the  invitation  of  Imer,  the  manager,  to 
travel  with  him,  he  "set  out  in  an  excellent  carriage 
with  Madame  Ferramonti  and  the  good  man,  her 
husband,"  and  although  he  met  in  that  mountain  town 
the  lemonade-vender's  daughter  from  whose  amorous 
toils  he  had  fled  nine  years  previously,  he  had  "no 
desire,"  he  assures  us,  "to  sacrifice  for  her  his  new 
inclination."  His  affair  with  La  Ferramonti  was 
short-lived,  however,  for  she  died  at  Udine  in  child- 
birth (August,  1735), 10  Goldoni  being  so  distracted 
by  grief  that  he  "could  no  longer  remain  in  that  town, 
or  endure  the  sight  of  the  women  who  delighted  in  his 
affliction" ;  therefore  he  set  out  for  Venice  with  the 
avowed  purpose  of  meeting  his  mother,  who  had  re- 
turned meanwhile  from  Modena.  From  her  he 
learned  that  his  Venetian  property  was  now  disen- 
cumbered and  his  Modena  revenues  increased. 

10  L.  Rasi.     I  Comlci  italiani. 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT    67 

Moreover,  his  brother  had  re-entered  the  army;  the 
family  fortunes  were  mending. 

Goldoni's  mother  wished  him  to  resume  the  prac- 
tice of  the  law,  but  he  assured  her  that  "play-writing 
was  quite  as  honourable  a  career."  Though  she 
pleaded  "with  tears  in  her  eyes,"  she  left  him  free  to 
choose  his  own  profession;  so,  when  Imer's  troupe  re- 
turned to  Venice  toward  the  end  of  September,  he  re- 
sumed his  duties  as  playwright.  But  love,  alas,  soon 
made  sport  of  him,  for  in  that  troupe  was  a  soubrette 
with  whom  he  had  already  philandered  at  Udine, 
Elisabetta  Moreri  d'Afflisio  by  name,  whose  pseu- 
donym was  La  Passalacqua. 

When  Goldoni  called  on  her  at  Venice,  at  her  ur- 
gent bidding,  she  was  dressed,  he  tells  us,  "like  a 
nymph  of  Cythera."  Being  "on  his  guard,"  he  with- 
stood her  wiles  for  a  while,  with  "heroic  self-denial." 
"Besides,  I  did  not  like  her,"  he  adds;  "she  was  too 
thin,  her  eyes  were  too  green,  and  her  pale  and  yel- 
low complexion  was  covered  with  an  abundance  of 
paint."  By  appealing  to  his  vanity,  however,  instead 
of  to  his  affection,  she  played  her  part  cleverly,  her 
reason  for  wishing  to  see  him  having  been,  so  she 
told  him,  a  desire  to  secure  professional  advice  from 
a  man  of  "his  talent  and  intelligence."  Yet,  when  he 
tried  to  depart,  she  seized  his  arm  and  led  him  to  her 
gondola,  this  being  his  account  of  their  departure  for 
Cythera : 

How  could  I  refuse  to  follow  her?    Therefore  we  entered  this 


68  GOLDONI 

vehicle,  which  is  as  snug  as  the  most  charming  boudoir.  We 
made  for  the  middle  of  the  vast  lagoon  that  surrounds  the  City  of 
Venice.  There  our  skilful  gondolier  drew  the  small  back  cur- 
tain, made  a  rudder  of  his  oar,  and  allowed  his  gondola  to  drift 
at  the  pleasure  of  the  waves. 

We  shall  draw  the  curtain  also  on  that  "lover's 
hour,"  as  it  was  called  by  this  tactful  gondolier,  and 
shift  the  scene  of  the  comedy  to  La  Passalacqua's 
boudoir.  There  Goldoni  played  the  role  of  injured 
lover,  a  handsome  actor  named  Vitalba  having  been 
the  cause  of  his  jealousy.  The  dramatist  had  left 
"the  faithless  woman,"  he  avers,  "without  intending 
to  complain,"  but  "she  wrote  him  a  touching  and  pa- 
thetic letter,"  and  "whether  from  curiosity  or  a  wish 
to  give  vent  to  his  rage,"  he  decided  to  see  her  once 
more.  His  own  words  shall  describe  the  meeting: 

I  found  her  stretched  on  a  sofa,  her  head  resting  on  a  pillow. 
I  greeted  her,  but  she  said  nothing;  I  asked  her  what  she  had  to 
tell  me,  but  she  did  not  answer.  Fire  mounted  to  my  face;  anger 
inflamed  and  blinded  me;  I  gave  free  vent  to  my  indignation,  and 
without  restraint  overwhelmed  her  with  the  reproaches  she  de- 
served. The  actress  said  not  a  word,  but  now  and  then  she  dried 
her  eyes,  and  as  I  dreaded  those  insidious  tears,  I  sought  to  leave. 
"Go,  sir,"  she  told  me  in  a  trembling  voice,  "my  mind  is  made  up ; 
you  shall  have  news  of  me  in  a  few  moments."  I  did  not  stop  be- 
cause of  these  vague  words,  but  made  my  way  to  the  door.  On 
turning  to  say  farewell,  I  saw  her  arm  raised  and  a  dagger  she 
held  in  her  hand  pointed  at  her  breast.  Struck  with  terror  at  the 
sight,  I  lost  my  head,  and  running  toward  her,  I  threw  myself  at 
her  feet.  Wresting  the  dagger  from  her  hand,  I  dried  her  tears, 
forgave  everything,  promised  everything,  and  remained.  We 
dined  together,  and  .  .  .  we  were  on  our  former  footing. 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT    69 

Though  Goldoni  "seriously  loved"  La  Passalacqua 
for  a  while,  and  was  convinced  that  she  loved  him, 
too,  he  soon  learned  that  she  and  Vitalba  "dined  and 
supped  together,  and  laughed  at  his  simplicity."  In 
revenge  for  this  infidelity,  he  portrayed  her  ruthlessly 
in  his  first  sustained  comedy,  entitled  Don  Juan  Teno- 
rio;  or,  The  Debauchee  (Don  Giovanni  Tenorio,  o 
sia  II  Dissoluto),  a  piece  that  soon  appeared  upon  the 
Venetian  boards  and  ran  "without  interruption"  until 
Shrove  Tuesday  (1736),  with  La  Passalacqua  re- 
luctantly playing  Elisa,  a  part  in  which  she  had  not 
been  slow  to  recognize  a  portrait  of  herself.  She  had 
protested  that  she  would  not  appear  in  this  comedy, 
unless  essential  changes  were  made  in  her  role;  yet, 
actress-like,  on  being  told  that  she  must  play  it  as  the 
author  had  written  it,  or  leave  the  company,  "she  in- 
stantly resolved  to  outbrave  every  other  considera- 
tion" ;  therefore,  "she  learned  and  recited  her  part  in 
the  most  perfect  manner." 

A  year  afterward  both  Vitalba  and  La  Passalacqua 
left  the  company.  Goldoni  bore  the  latter  "no  ill 
will,"  he  tells  us,  yet  he  "felt  better  when  he  did  not 
see  her."  Meanwhile,  he  had  met  romantically  on  a 
journey  he  made  to  Genoa  with  Imer's  troupe,  the 
girl  who  became  his  faithful  helpmate  during  his 
long  and  eventful  life.  In  that  city,  he  won  a  prize 
of  a  hundred  pistoles  in  a  lottery,  "but  there  a  greater 
piece  of  good  fortune  came  to  me,"  he  says,  "since  I 
married  a  wise,  virtuous,  and  charming  young  lady, 
who  made  up  for  all  the  tricks  other  women  had 


7o  GOLDONI 

played  me,  and  reconciled  me  to  the  fair  sex" — with 
which  he  had  never  really  been  at  odds. 

The  name  of  this  exemplary  girl  was  Maria  Nico- 
letta  Connio,  her  father  being  Agostino  Connio,  one 
of  the  four  notaries  of  an  important  bank.  He  was 
"a  respectable  man,"  his  son-in-law  informs  us,  "of 
some  fortune,  but  having  a  very  large  family,  he  was 
not  in  as  easy  circumstances  as  he  should  have  been." 
His  wife,  Angela  Benedetta,  bore  this  "most  worthy 
gentleman,  this  excellent  father  and  dutiful  citi- 
zen," "  eight  children,  the  eldest  daughter  being 
Maria  Nicoletta,  or  "good  Nicoletta,"  as  she  is  fami- 
liarly called  by  Goldoni's  Italian  biographers.  At 
the  time  of  her  future  husband's  advent  in  Genoa, 
Nicoletta  was  nineteen  years  of  age,  Goldoni  being 
then  twenty-nine.  His  words  shall  tell  of  their  meet- 
ing: 

The  manager  and  I  lodged  in  a  house  adjoining  the  theatre,  and 
I  had  noticed  opposite  my  casement  a  young  lady  who  appeared  to 
me  to  be  quite  pretty,  and  whose  acquaintance  I  was  anxious  to 
make.  One  day  when  she  was  alone  in  her  window,  I  greeted 
her  somewhat  tenderly;  whereupon  she  dipped  me  a  courtesy,  but 
disappeared  immediately  and  did  not  show  herself  again. 

His  "curiosity  was  excited"  and  his  "pride 
piqued,"  he  continues:  therefore,  he  took  pains  to 
learn  the  young  lady's  name,  then  borrowed  a  note 
Imer  had  received  for  the  rent  of  a  theatre  box, 
which  he  presented  for  payment  to  Agostino  Connio, 

11  Preface  to  Vol.  XV  of  the  Pasquali  edition ;  Hermann  von  Lohner, 
Memoires  de  Goldoni. 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT    71 

at  the  bank  where  he  was  employed,  and  by  this  sub- 
terfuge managed  to  scrape  an  acquaintance  with  him. 
Having  seen  Goldoni's  plays  performed,  Connio 
hobnobbed  with  him  at  coffee-houses,  then  invited 
him  to  his  house,  where  he  met  the  fair  Nicoletta, 
and  within  a  month  he  had  asked  her  hand  in  mar- 
riage, in  the  manner  he  thus  describes : 

Having  perceived  my  inclinations,  Connio  was  in  no  way  sur- 
prised, and  he  had  no  apprehension  of  a  refusal  on  the  part  of  the 
young  lady ;  but  like  a  wise  and  prudent  man,  he  requested  a  little 
time ;  whereupon  he  wrote  to  the  Genoese  consul  at  Venice  for  in- 
formation regarding  my  character. 

The  information  proved  highly  satisfactory;  there- 
fore, when  he  had  obtained  from  his  mother  the 
necessary  legal  documents  for  a  marriage  beyond  the 
confines  of  his  native  state,  as  well  as  her  consent, 
Goldoni  was  wedded  to  pretty  Nicoletta  (Aug.  23, 
1736).  During  the  ceremony  at  the  house  of  the 
bride,  he  had  felt  feverish,  and  at  the  service  in  the 
church  of  San  Sisto  on  the  following  day,  he  became 
so  faint  that  he  was  obliged  to  retire  to  the  sacristy. 
That  night,  which,  in  his  own  words,  "should  have 
been  so  joyful,"  he  became  ill  of  the  smallpox  for  the 
second  time,  that  fell  disease  having  assailed  him  at 
Rimini  sixteen  years  before.  "I  was  not  dangerously 
ill,"  he  says,  "and  I  became  no  uglier  than  I  was  be- 
fore; yet  my  poor  wife  shed  many  a  tear  over  my 
pillow,  she  being  then,  as  she  has  ever  been,  my  chief 
consolation."  Imer's  troupe  had  gone  to  Florence 


72  GOLDONI 

meanwhile,  so  when  he  had  recovered,  Goldoni  set 
out  for  Venice  with  his  wife.  "Oh,  heavens!"  he 
exclaims,  "what  tears  were  shed!  What  a  cruel  part- 
ing for  my  wife!  All  at  once  she  left  her  father, 
mother,  brothers,  sisters,  uncles,  and  aunts  .  .  .  but 
she  went  with  her  husband." 

At  Venice,  the  young  couple  "disembarked  in  the 
parish  of  Santa  Maria  Mater  Domini,  at  a  house  by 
the  bridge  of  the  same  name,"  and  there  they  dwelt 
"in  perfect  accord,"  with  Goldoni's  mother  and  aunt, 
"all  being  peace  and  harmony,"  and  our  dramatist 
"the  happiest  man  in  the  world."  Although  he  owed 
these  blessings  "to  his  virtuous  consort,"  the  house  at 
Santa  Maria  Mater  Domini  proved  too  small  for 
even  so  amiable  a  family;  therefore  he  soon  rented 
"one  of  the  new  houses  of  the  Degna  in  the  street 
called  La  Salizada  a  San  Lio,"  where  he  dwelt  hap- 
pily with  good  Nicoletta.12 

She  was  a  model  wife,  whose  fine  character  was 
thoroughly  appreciated  by  her  humoursome  lord,  for 
in  dedicating  one  of  his  comedies 13  to  her  father, 
after  twenty-one  years  of  wedded  life,  he  pays  her 
this  fervent  tribute : 

Great  is  my  obligation  to  you,  since  you  could  not  have  given 
me  a  greater  treasure  than  you  did  in  your  exemplary  daughter,  my 
beloved  consort.  .  .  .  She  has  ever  been  such  a  good  companion 
that  during  the  many  years  we  have  passed  together,  it  has  never 
occurred  to  me,  either  on  account  of  domestic  differences,  or  angry 

12  Preface  to  Vol.  XV,  Pasquali  edition. 

13  La  Donna  sola,  1757. 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT    73 

sentiment,  to  regret  our  union.  She  has  known  how  to  bear 
tranquilly  with  me  the  hostile  blows  of  fortune,  content  with  every 
humble  condition,  and  desirous  only  of  the  peace  of  which  she  has 
always  been  the  promoter  and  discreet  custodian.  .  .  .  She  is  very 
fond  of  politeness  and  neatness,  and  the  mortal  enemy  of  pomp 
and  ambition;  and  combining  as  she  does  so  thoroughly  in  her- 
self both  becoming  generosity  and  careful  economy,  she  has,  with- 
out exciting  my  too  easy-going  tastes,  provided  me,  day  by  day, 
with  perceptible  comforts. 

During  the  first  four  years  of  Goldoni's  married 
life  (1736-1740),  little  happened  to  ruffle  its  seren- 
ity. He  lived  tranquilly  in  Venice  with  Nicoletta, 
wrote  several  pieces  for  Imer's  troupe,14  and  his  do- 
mestic happiness  was  undisturbed  by  the  allurements 
of  soubrettes.  Yet  he  began  to  be  inconstant  to  Mel- 
pomene, the  success  of  The  Man  of  the  World 
(L'Uomo  di  mondo] ,  a  comedy  he  wrote  to  provide 
Francesco  Collinetti,  an  admirable  comedian  of 
Imer's  company,  with  a  part,  convincing  him  that 
"comedy  was  his  bent,  and  that  good  comedy  should 
be  his  aim."  He  wrote  popular  farces,  too,  to  fit  the 
talents  of  Antonio  Sacchi,  a  harlequin  of  interna- 
tional repute,  so  gradually  Thalia  enticed  him  to- 
ward her  shrine  during  those  serene  days. 

The  tranquillity  of  his  life  came  to  an  end, 
however,  when  in  December,  1740,  through  the 
influence  of  his  wife's  family,  he  was  gazetted  as 

^Rinaldo  di  Montalbano;  Enrico  re  di  Sicilia;  Lucrezia  romana  in 
Constantinopoli;  I'Uomo  di  mondo,  o  El  Cortesan  venezian;  Gustavo 
primo,  re  di  Svezia;  II  Prodigo;  Le  Trendadue  disgrazie  d'Arlecchino; 
Cento  e  quattro  accidenti  in  una  notta,  o  la  notta  critica;  Oronte  re  de' 
Sciti,  and  five  drammi  giocosi  per  musica. 


74  GOLDONI 

Genoese  consul  in  Venice,  an  appointment  which 
he  accepted  "with  gratitude  and  respect,"  without 
asking  the  amount  of  his  salary.  This  was  "an- 
other of  my  follies,"  he 'laments,  "for  which  I  paid 
dearly."  After  increasing  his  "establishment,  his  ta- 
ble, and  his  retinue,"  in  accordance  with  the  dignity 
of  his  office,  he  learned  that  his  consulship  was  un- 
salaried,  though  the  fees  netted  him  a  small  income. 
Moreover,  in  his  official  capacity,  he  became  involved 
in  financial  difficulties.  On  behalf  of  his  govern- 
ment, he  had  seized,  it  appears,  some  valuable  goods, 
found  in  the  possession  of  a  man  who  had  defrauded 
the  Genoese  Republic,  and  although  he  conducted  the 
affair  with  "infinite  honour"  to  himself,  he  entrusted 
the  proceeds  of  the  public  sale  of  these  goods  to  a 
broker,  who  pawned  them  to  a  Jew,  Goldoni's  father- 
in-law  being  obliged  to  make  good  the  amount  out  of 
the  unpaid  portion  of  his  daughter's  dowry. 

While  dealing  with  these  shady  financiers,  he  wrote 
The  Bankruptcy  (La  Bancarotta],  a  comedy  that 
angered  the  sharpers  of  the  business  world;  there- 
fore, when  he  became  implicated  in  a  private 
financial  transaction,  he  was  widely  accused  of  mis- 
appropriating six  hundred  ducats,  though  he  had  "no 
difficulty,"  he  asserts,  "in  proving  the  contrary."  To 
add  to  his  troubles,  war  was  declared  (1742)  by 
France  and  Spain  against  Austria,15  and  as  the  Duke 

15  The  War  of  the  Austrian  Succession,  during  which  Austria  and  Sar- 
dinia had  become  allies.  Modena  had  been  invaded  in  June,  1742,  and 
on  the  5th  of  July,  the  King  of  Sardinia,  and  not  the  Duke  of  Modena, 
as  Goldoni  states,  had  sequestered  the  revenues  of  the  ducal  bank.  Her- 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT    75 

of  Modena  became  involved  in  it,  "to  support  the 
expenses  of  his  army,  he  stopped  the  payment  of  in- 
terest on  funds  in  the  ducal  bank  at  Modena."  The 
residue  of  Goldoni's  small  inheritance  being  invested 
in  these  funds,  he  was  unable  to  maintain  his  posi- 
tion in  society;  therefore,  he  resolved  to  set  out  for 
Modena,  for  "the  purpose  of  obtaining  money  at  all 
hazard."  Being  an  official,  he  was  forced  to  wait 
until  the  Genoese  government  would  grant  him  a 
leave  of  absence.  Meanwhile,  Anna  Baccherini,  a 
married  soubrette,  crossed  his  path,  "eager  to  display 
her  pretty  face." 

To  provide  this  lady  with  a  vehicle  suitable  to  her 
talents  and  charms,  he  wrote  The  Clever  Woman  (La 
Donna  di  garbo).  This  play  marks  a  turning-point 
in  his  career,  but  as  its  dramatic  attributes  are  con- 
sidered in  another  chapter,  it  is  only  necessary  to  note 
here  that  La  Baccherini  died  before  Goldoni  could 
enjoy  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  in  the  title-role. 

"What  a  blow  for  me!"  he  exclaims.  "It  was  not 
a  lover  who  bewailed  his  mistress,  but  an  author  who 
mourned  for  his  favourite  actress.  My  wife,  who 
saw  me  in  grief,  was  sensible  enough  to  share  it." 
He  acknowledges,  moreover,  that  he  and  La  Bac- 
cherini had  "need  of  each  other,"  and  that  "united 

mann  von  Lohner  says,  however  (Memoir es  de  M.  Goldoni)  t  that  "if 
Goldoni,  while  giving  an  inkling  of  the  diplomatic  history  of  his  time, 
distorts  some  particulars,  it  may  be  believed  that  he  did  so  through  a 
certain  prudence  in  speaking  of  political  matters  and  princes,  which  will 
not  surprise  anyone  familiar  with  the  literary  customs  of  Europe  before 
the  French  Revolution." 


76  GOLDONI 

in  friendship,"  he  "worked  for  her  glory  while  she 
dispelled  his  troubles."  Good  Nicoletta,  therefore, 
was  a  sensible  wife  for  a  dramatist  with  the  vaga- 
bondizing instinct,  since  she  could  not  have  been  en- 
tirely blind  to  this  and  the  many  other  amours  into 
which  her  temperamental  husband  was  lured  by  am- 
bitious soubrettes. 

Meanwhile  Goldoni's  worthless  brother,  Gian 
Paolo,  shorn  once  more  of  military  rank,  came  to 
abide  with  him  and  to  introduce  beneath  his  roof  a 
military  adventurer  who  choused  our  dramatist  out 
of  the  few  livres  that  remained  to  him.  This  rogue, 
a  Ragusan  captain  "who  had  more  the  appearance  of 
a  courtier  than  a  soldier,"  was  polite  to  the  ladies, 
drank  his  host's  wine,  and  told  stories  of  his  own 
daring.  He  was  raising  a  regiment,  he  said,  for  for- 
eign service  in  which  Gian  Paolo  was  to  have  a  cap- 
taincy, and  glibly  he  prevailed  upon  Goldoni  to 
accept  the  post  of  auditor-general.  Having  found 
his  kindly  host  thus  gullible,  he  induced  him  to  cash 
a  draft  he  had  forged  on  some  German  bankers  for 
six  thousand  livres,  whereupon  he  decamped.  "All 
the  Ragusan's  dupes  assembled  in  my  house,"  says 
his  victim,  "but  in  order  to  avoid  the  indignation  of 
the  government  and  the  ridicule  of  the  public,  we 
were  forced  to  stifle  our  charges." 

Financially  straitened  by  this  loss,  and  despairing 
of  ever  receiving  from  the  Genoese  government  the 
remuneration  he  had  asked  for  his  services,  Gol- 
doni made  up  his  mind  to  leave  Venice,  his  in- 


LOVE'S    MESSENGER 


Musco   Corrzr 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT    77 

tention  being,  he  says,  to  pass  through  Modena  and 
there  provide  himself  with  the  means  of  continuing 
his  journey  to  Genoa,  "in  order  to  obtain  in  person 
favour  or  justice."  16  Moreover,  he  was  being  ac- 
cused, though  apparently  unjustly,  of  having  appro- 
priated a  sum  of  money  that  had  passed  through  his 
hands,17  so  having  received  during  the  month  of 
March  permission  from  the  Genoese  government  to 
leave  Venice,  he  embarked  during  the  summer  of 
1743  18  for  the  mainland  with  his  wife,  "sad,  thought- 
ful, and  plunged  in  grief."  A  vagabond  once  more, 
he  endeavoured  "to  dispel  regret  for  the  past, 
by  the  hope  of  better  fortune  for  the  future," 
being  animated  in  this  time  of  trouble  by  the  exam- 
ple and  advice  of  his  good  wife,  who  was  "more 
reasonable  than  he,  her  only  care  being  to  consider 
him." 

At  Bologna,  he  tarried  long  enough  to  draw  roy- 
alties from  the  local  managers  for  the  use  of  three  of 
his  comedies,  and  from  there  he  went,  on  the  advice 
of  a  Thespian  friend,  to  Rimini,  where  the  Duke  of 

16  Preface  to  Vol.  XVII,  Pasquali  edition.    There  is  no  record  that  he 
reached  Genoa,  fortuitous  events  having  apparently  altered  his  plans. 

17  Fifteen  hundred  ducats  he  had  received  under  Imer's  power  of  at- 
torney from  Francesco  Maria  Berio,  the  former's  kinsman  of  Naples,  and 
it  was  believed  that  Goldoni  had   left  Venice,  still  owing  that  sum  to 
Imer.    "But,"  Goldoni  adds,  "I  can  give  the  lie  to  this  shameful  indignity 
with  two  receipts,  one  from  Messrs.  Maruzzi  Brothers  in  the  sum  of  620 
ducats,  and  the  other  from  Imer  himself  for  the  amount  in  full,  less  ex- 
penses."    (Pasquali  edition,  preface,  vol.  XVII.) 

18  Goldoni  says  1741,  but  as  Hermann  von  Lohner  points  out,  he  is  two 
rears  in  error.     The  date  Sept.  i8th,  given  in  the  Memoirs,  is  also  wrong, 

:ording  to  Guido  Mazzoni,  and  should  be  some  time  in  June  or  July. 


78  GOLDONI 

Modena  had  taken  refuge  with  his  Spanish  allies. 
He  was  presented  to  His  Highness,  but  the  moment 
"he  pronounced  the  words  ducal  bank  and  arrears," 
the  Duke  coldly  terminated  the  audience.  Luckily, 
there  was  a  company  of  actors  in  Rimini,  as  well  as 
a  brigadier  in  the  Spanish  service,  who  was  such  an 
ardent  lover  of  the  stage,  and  particularly  of  Arlec- 
chino's  pranks,  that  he  suggested  to  Goldoni  the  sub- 
ject of  a  farce  19  in  which  the  local  actor  of  that  part 
might  display  his  talents. 

There  was  "a  fresh  and  lively"  actress  in  that  com- 
pany, too,  named  Angela  Bonaldi,  who  usoon  became 
my  companion,"  Goldoni  confesses,  "she  being  the 
soubrette,  and  therefore  my  fate."  Spanish  auster- 
ity reigned  at  Rimini,  however,  "there  being  no 
gaming,  no  balls  or  women  of  suspicious  character" ; 
yet,  although  this  town  was  "like  a  convent,"  he 
managed  to  see  now  and  then  his  "fair  friend  with 
the  Italian  gaiety." 

His  pleasure  was  marred,  however,  by  the  advent 
of  his  brother,  bent  upon  raising  another  regiment. 
This  time,  however,  Goldoni  warily  declined  the  post 
of  auditor.  When  the  Austrians  threatened  Rimini 
(October,  1743),  and  the  Spaniards  retreated  to 
Pesaro,  Gian  Paolo,  luckily,  went  with  the  latter. 
Although  relieved  of  his  brother's  presence,  Goldoni 
was  in  a  state  of  "greater  embarrassment  than  ever," 
he  being  a  citizen  of  Modena,  as  well  as  a  consul  of 
Genoa,  both  of  'which  countries  were  allies  of  the 

19  Arlequin  empereur  dans  la  lune,  a  French  farce  adapted  by  Goldoni. 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT    79 

Spaniards.  Fearful,  therefore,  that  the  Austrians 
might  treat  him  as  a  spy,  he  embarked  with  his  wife 
for  Pesaro,  but  owing  to  the  roughness  of  the  sea,  was 
obliged  to  proceed  from  Cattolica  by  land,  his  serv- 
ant being  left  behind  with  orders  to  follow  with 
the  baggage.  But  the  Austrians,  on  entering  Cat- 
tolica, sequestered  it;  thereupon,  Goldoni,  accom- 
panied by  good  Nicoletta,  set  forth  from  Pesaro  in  a 
carriage  to  reclaim  it.  When  they  descended  by  the 
wayside  to  stretch  their  legs,  the  driver,  alas,  made 
off  with  the  carriage  and  they  were  left  to  proceed  to 
Cattolica  on  foot.  Obliged  to  carry  his  wife  across 
a  rushing  torrent  on  his  back,  Goldoni  accomplished 
this  feat  with  "inexpressible  joy,"  while  saying  to 
himself:  "Omnia  bona  mea  mecum  porto" 

When  the  unlucky  pair  finally  reached  Cattolica, 
they  were  arrested  as  suspicious  characters  by  an  Aus- 
trian outpost;  but  the  officer  in  command  proved  a 
friend  in  need,  for  he  had  seen  Belisarius  and  The 
Man  of  the  World,  and  upon  learning  that  Goldoni 
was  the  author  of  these  plays,  he  not  only  passed  him 
and  his  good  wife  through  the  lines,  but  ordered  his 
baggage  to  be  returned  to  him,  on  the  condition  that 
he  take  any  road  except  that  to  Pesaro,  whence  he 
had  come.  The  next  morning,  he  hired  betimes  a 
cart  in  which  he  and  Nicoletta  journeyed  to  Rimini, 
where  they  remained  until  the  Austrians  evacuated 
that  town. 

During  his  sojourn  at  Rimini,  Goldoni  wrote  a  can- 
tata, in  honour  of  the  wedding  of  Maria  Theresa's 


8o  GOLDONI 

sister,  which  was  sung  on  the  evening  of  January 
7th,  1744,  the  music  being  composed  by  a  Neapoli- 
tan musician  named  Francesco  (Ciccio)  Maggiore. 
Both  author  and  composer  were  liberally  rewarded 
by  the  Austrian  commander,  but  Maggiore,  who, 
Goldoni  assures  us,  "was  by  no  means  a  fool,"  sug- 
gested the  hiring  of  a  fine  coach  in  which  to  make 
the  rounds  of  the  town  and  its  environs  for  the  pur- 
pose of  presenting  copies  of  the  cantata  to  the  field 
officers  of  the  regiments  composing  the  garrison,  a 
device  whereby  the  collaborators  collected  "a  purse 
full  of  Venetian  sequins,  Spanish  pistoles,  and  Port- 
uguese quadruples,  which  they  divided  equally." 

At  Rimini,  Goldoni's  days  passed  blithely.  "I  had 
money,"  he  tells  us,  "nothing  to  do,  and  I  was  happy." 
The  Austrians  were  not  austere,  like  the  Spaniards, 
so  there  were  "balls,  concerts,  public  games,  brilliant 
assemblies,  and  ladies  of  gallantry";  moreover,  La 
Bonaldi,  the  soubrette  who  had  cheered  him  during 
the  sombre  days  of  the  Spanish  occupation,  was  still 
in  Rimini.  Though  he  "loved  his  wife,"  he  assures 
us,  and  "shared  his  pleasures  with  her,"  good  Nico- 
letta  refused  to  accompany  him  on  his  visits  to  La 
Bonaldi,  "that  actress  being  not  to  her  taste,"  as  may 
readily  be  imagined. 

The  Austrian  officers  wished  opera  during  the 
carnival;  therefore,  the  comedians  gave  place  to  sing- 
ers. Though  he  lost  La  Bonaldi  by  this  change, 
Goldoni  benefited  materially  thereby,  for  the  lieu- 
tenant-general, who  inaugurated  this  new  diversion, 


THE  VAGABONDIZING  INSTINCT    81 

made  him  its  director,  and  treated  him  so  generously 
that  he  "enjoyed  more  profits  than  he  had  any  right 
to  expect."  This  delectable  winter  came  to  an  end, 
however,  when  the  Austrians,  on  evacuating  Rimini 
(March,  1744),  left  Goldoni  behind  them  in  the 
happy  state  he  thus  describes : 

I  was  free,  and  the  master  of  my  inclinations,  and  having  suf- 
ficient money,  I  executed  a  plan  I  had  long  cherished.  I  wished 
to  see  Tuscany;  I  wished  to  wander  through  it,  and  live  there  for 
some  time,  for  I  needed  to  familiarize  myself  with  the  Florentines 
and  Siennese,  who  are  the  living  texts  of  pure  Italian.  I  ap- 
prised my  wife  of  my  plan,  and  as  I  pointed  out  to  her  that  this 
route  brought  us  nearer  to  Genoa,  she  appeared  satisfied ;  therefore, 
we  decided  on  a  trip  to  Florence. 

He  had  received,  meanwhile,  a  hint  from  the  Gen- 
oese government  that  his  resignation  as  consul  would 
be  acceptable,  so  he  tendered  it  gladly;  then  set  forth 
from  Rimini,  with  good  Nicoletta,  to  traverse  the 
Apennines  on  horseback.  He  was  thirty-seven  years 
old;  his  life  thus  far  had  been  a  comedy  as  merry 
and  varied  as  any  he  penned  in  later  years;  yet  he 
was  destined  to  pass  four  unmomentous  years  in  Tus- 
cany before  he  became  wedded  to  comedy.  He  had 
been  groping  in  tragic  darkness,  yet  before  misfor- 
tune had  exiled  him  from  his  beloved  Venice,  he 
had  written  two  or  three  comedies  through  which 
the  true  light  of  his  genius  shone.  When  he  re- 
turned, four  years  later,  with  the  troupe  of  an  actor 
named  Medebac,  play-writing  became  a  divine  call 
instead  of  the  mere  avocation  it  had  been  theretofore. 


82  GOLDONI 

He  began,  then,  the  creation  of  his  naturalistic  com- 
edy of  Italian  manners  by  attacking  the  Gommedia 
dell'  arte,  an  unwritten  form  of  comedy  that  had 
reigned  merrily  in  Italy  for  generations. 

An  acquaintance  with  the  Gommedia  delV  arte  be- 
ing necessary  for  a  clear  understanding  of  his  works, 
he  shall  be  left  for  the  present,  journeying  peacefully 
with  his  good  wife  across  the  Apennines,  while  that 
unique  dramatic  form  is  considered,  as  well  as  the 
tragedies,  comedies,  and  operas  he  had  written  during 
the  years  when  his  life  had  been  a  merry  comedy, 
and  the  vagabondizing  instinct  strong  upon  him. 


Ill 

THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY 

DURING  the  Renaissance  Italy  awoke  to  il- 
lumine a  world  long  darkened ;  yet  the  light 
shed  by  her  poetry  and  painting,  her  sculp- 
ture and  music,  is  so  dazzling  that  we  are  likely  to 
be  blinded  to  the  fact  that,  while  these  sister  arts 
arose,  the  drama  did  little  more  than  rub  her  drowsy 
eyes.  Indeed,  the  artists  and  scholars  of  the  Renais- 
sance failed  to  realize,  to  quote  Moliere,  that  "the 
dramatic  rule  of  all  rules  is  to  please" ;  nor  did  they 
understand  that  what  pleases  one  age  is  likely  to 
weary  another.  The  drama  is  the  most  democratic, 
the  most  contemporary  of  the  arts ;  its  appeal  is  made 
directly  to  living  people — not  to  one  class,  but  to  all; 
not  to  those  yet  to  come,  but  to  those  present.  In 
brief,  the  dramatist  who  would  not  see  his  benches 
empty  must  tell  his  audience  a  story  it  can  under- 
stand without  the  aid  of  a  book  of  rules. 

Forgetting  that  the  times  had  changed  since  an  en- 
tire tragic  trilogy  and  a  satire  had  been  the  daily 
program  at  the  Dionysiac  spring  festivals  of  Ath- 
ens, the  men  of  the  Renaissance,  in  love  with  the  aus- 
tere beauty  of  classic  tragedy,  plunged  ardently  into 
the  work  of  tragedy  writing,  mindful  only  of  the  lit- 

83 


84  GOLDONI 

erary  merits  of  the  task.  Nor  did  they  study  the 
Greek  masters  at  first  hand.  The  rigid  closet  plays 
of  Seneca,  rather  than  the  august  drama  of  Sopho- 
cles, became  their  model.  Moreover,  the  critics 
of  the  day — Giraldi,  Trissino,  Castelvetro,  Nores, 
and  Ingegneri — in  their  ardour  to  revive  the  past, 
evolved  rules  which,  when  not  of  their  own  making, 
were  at  best  Aristotle  misunderstood  or  Horace  mis- 
read. 

That  a  play  must  have  a  single  action,  completed 
in  a  single  day,  and  developed  in  a  single  place,  was 
the  hard  and  fast  dogma*  they  imposed,  not  only  on 
themselves,  but  wherever  the  new  learning  took  root. 
The  result  was  a  drama  turgidly  exotic,  which  throve 
just  so  long  as  the  pedants  sprinkled  it  with  lore 
within  the  palaces  of  the  great,  but  which  withered 
and  died  the  moment  it  was  exposed  to  the  scorching 
blast  of  popular  opinion. 

A  reason  less  apparent  than  mere  pedantry  for  the 
failure  of  the  Renaissance  to  produce  a  worthy  writ- 
ten drama,  lies  in  its  own  fawning  spirit — its  tradition 
of  patronage  by  liberal  Ippolitos,  sumptuous  Leos, 
magnificent  Lorenzos,  and  the  like.  Since  the  thea- 
tre, as  a  permanent  place  of  public  amusement  with 
entrance  receipts  and  consequent  royalties,  did  not 
yet  exist,  the  dramatist  who  would  not  starve  must 
take  his  place  among  the  flatterers,  knights,  pages, 
fools,  poets,  and  scholars  of  the  antechamber;  and 
when  my  lord  of  Ferrara  or  of  Urbino  deigned  to 
pass  that  way  and  smile,  draw  a  tragedy  from  beneath 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY          85 

his  well-worn  cloak  for  use  on  a  festal  day.  When 
that  auspicious  moment  came,  the  lucky  author's 
stage  was  set  in  the  cortlle  of  his  patron's  palace. 
Raphael,  even,  might  paint  the  curtains  that  enclosed 
it,  as  he  once  did  for  the  stage  of  Ariosto — or,  if  not 
he,  then  Mantegna,  who  had  a  liking  for  the  task. 
The  audience  was  composed  of  precious  ladies  with 
awe  for  phrasing,  pedants  with  their  ears  astrain  for 
error;  or  jealous  courtiers,  who  were  watching  for 
the  offensive  word  that  might  serve  to  confine  the 
literary  upstart  favoured  by  their  lord  behind  the 
seven  series  of  iron  bars  guarding  the  dungeon  below 
that  very  courtyard  where  lutes  tinkled  sweetly  and 
fountains  plashed  in  an  atmosphere  of  perfumed  love- 
liness. No  democratic  drama  could  thrive  in  such 
a  cradle ;  and  as  the  drama  is  essentially  democratic, 
that  of  the  Renaissance  could  not  reach  maturity  in 
these  surroundings. 

When  banished  from  the  churches,  the  sacred 
drama  of  the  middle  ages,  gradually  secularized  in 
Italy,  as  in  western  Europe,  succumbed  in  time  to  the 
loud  merriment  of  popular  farces  and  the  gloomy 
fustian  of  didactic  tragedy.  However,  the  chron- 
icle play  did  not  arise  from  its  embers  as  the  spark 
of  a  national  drama.  An  occasional  sporadic  at- 
tempt was  made  in  this  direction,  as  in  the  Orpheus 
(Orfeo)  of  Poliziano,  a  profane  play  modelled  upon 
the  sacred  drama,  yet  with  pagan  gods  instead  of  the 
Italian  heroes  who  might  have  nationalized  it.  The 
disunion  of  the  Italian  states  hindered  the  formation 


86  GOLDONI 

of  such  a  drama  as  arose  in  England  and  Spain. 
There  was  no  single  capital  where  the  dramatist 
might  win  the  favour  of  a  genuine  monarch,  no  dra- 
matic centre  where  national  deeds  might  be  ap- 
plauded by  the  patriotic  veterans  of  triumphant  wars. 
Instead  of  these  inspiriting  elements  there  were  petty 
princes,  each  with  a  dilettante  court,  and  condottieri 
whose  meretricious  arms  were  at  the  disposal  of  the 
highest  bidder.  There  was  need  for  an  Alfieri  to 
preach  nationalism  on  the  stage,  but  he  did  not  step 
forth.  In  his  place  stood  Torquato  Tasso  with  his 
Torrumond  (Torrismondo) — a  weak  CEdipus,  a  fac- 
titious Tristan,  whose  character  is  quite  as  remote 
from  Italian  nationalism  as  the  Greece  which  inspired 
him  is  from  Norway,  the  scene  of  his  promising  but 
unfulfilled  story. 

There  were  tragedies  a-plenty  then,  as  well  as 
pedants  to  write  them:  Trissino  with  his  Sophonlsba 
(Sofonisba),  Rucellai  with  his  Rosamond  (Ros- 
munda),  and  the  like;  all  imitated  from  the  classics 
and  laboriously  constructed  according  to  the  rules — 
all  as  thoroughly  unnational  as  their  names.  There 
were  the  pastoral  dramas,  too ;  false  and  conventional, 
with  Tasso's  Aminta  as  their  masterpiece.  Only  in 
comedy  did  the  dramatists  of  the  Renaissance  sound 
even  the  faintest  note  of  nationalism ;  yet  in  this  field 
they  were  again  servile  imitators.  Plautus  and  Ter- 
ence were  rewritten  by  them,  just  as  Menander  had  . 
been  rewritten  by  these  able  Romans  themselves, 
though  almost  invariably  without  the  felicity  of  these 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY          87 

last  in  adopting  foreign  characters  to  home  condi- 
tions. The  written  comedy  of  the  Renaissance — the 
Commedia  erudlta  as  it  is  called  to  distinguish  it 
from  the  extemporized  comedy,  or  Commedia  dell9 
arte — brought  forth  a  handful  of  writers  partially  en- 
dowed with  the  comedy  sense — Bruno,  Aretino,  Bib- 
biena,  Ariosto,  and  Machiavelli — only  the  last  of 
whom  fared  beyond-the  dramatic  foot-hills.  In  The 
Mandrake  (La  Mandragola)  of  Machiavelli  the 
moral  corruption  of  the  age  is  painted  vivaciously, 
truthfully,  and  artistically,  albeit  lewdly;  yet,  a  sin- 
gle obscene  comedy,  even  though  it  be  simple,  nat- 
ural, and  truthful,  cannot  absolve  the  Renaissance 
from  the  charge  of  having  brought  forth  no  written 
drama,  national  in  spirit  or  original  in  character. 
Two  centuries  later  Goldoni  fulfilled  that  task;  until 
his  day,  the  written  comedy  of  Italy  remained  in  the 
womb  of  time. 

Upon  the  word  "written"  particular  stress  has  been 
laid,  because  an  unheralded,  unrecognized  national 
comedy  arose  during  the  Renaissance — a  comedy 
scorned  by  the  scholars  vainly  imitating  the  ancients 
and  framing  dramatic  rules,  yet  sufficiently  vital  to 
leave  its  imprint  not  only  upon  the  drama  of  Italy, 
but  upon  that  of  the  rest  of  Europe  as  well — the 
Commedia  dell'  arte,  destined  to  dethrone  the  an- 
cients, and  to  inspire  through  its  sprightly  technic  the 
modern  drama. 

Commedia  dell'  arte  all'  improvviso,  or  profes- 
sional improvised  comedy,  is  the  full  name  of  this 


88  GOLDONI 

dramatic  form,  the  word  arte  being  used  in  the  sense 
of  craft  or  guild,  to  indicate  that  this  species  of  com- 
edy was  acted  by  professional  players.  Occasionally, 
however,  as  at  the  Bavarian  court  in  1568,  amateurs 
attempted  the  difficult  art  of  improvisation,  though 
they  usually  confined  their  halting  talents  to  the  more 
easily  sustained  written  comedy.  However,  the  word 
arte  has  by  some  writers  been  held  to  signify  "craft," 
in  the  sense  that  the  first  performances  of  commedie 
dell*  arte  were  given  upon  festal  days  by  troupes  com- 
posed of  craftsmen  or  artisans — performances  similar 
to  the  trials  of  Pyramus  and  Thisbe,  as  interpreted 
by  Bottom  the  weaver,  Snug  the  joiner,  and  Quince 
the  carpenter.  Other  names  for  this  variety  of  com- 
edy, each  suggestive  of  its  improvisated  character,  are 
Commedia  improvvisa,  Commedia  non  iscritta,  and 
Corn-media  a  soggetto,  while,  owing  to  the  leathern 
masks  worn  by  its  buffoons,  it  has  sometimes  been 
called  Commedia  a  maschera,  or  Mask  Comedy.  In 
order  that  the  reader  may  not  be  called  upon  to  mas- 
ter its  Italian  terminology,  this  sort  of  comedy,  so 
pertinent  to  Goldoni's  work,  will  be  called  henceforth 
the  Improvised  Comedy,  to  distinguish  it  from  the 
Erudite  Comedy  of  the  renaissance  poets. 

"We  do  not  know,  nor  is  it  easy  to  ascertain,  the 
time  when  this  comedy  was  born,"  says  Dr.  Michele 
Scherillo  in  the  preface  to  his  suggestive  brochure  on 
the  subject;1  "its  most  splendid  blossoming,  how- 
ever, was  in  the  second  half  of  the  sixteenth  century, 

1  La  Commedia  dell'  arte  in  Italia. 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY          89 

in  the  seventeenth,  and  in  the  eighteenth.  The  man 
who  took  upon  himself  the  mission  of  dethroning  it 
was  Carlo  Goldoni,  who,  for  the  masks,  the  constant 
types,  the  buffooneries,  and  the  intrigues  of  this  thor- 
oughly national  and  spontaneous  comedy,  substituted 
a  truer,  though  less  original  comedy  of  middle-class 
manners.  As  champions  of  the  cause  of  Improvised 
Comedy  a  critic  and  an  artist  of  unquestioned  prowess 
arose:  Giuseppe  Baretti  and  Carlo  Gozzi  attacked 
Goldoni  as  the  defamer  of  the  country's  glory,  but 
in  spite  of  the  Frusta  and  the  Fiabe,  the  Goldonian 
reform  triumphed,  and  the  improvised  mask  comedy 
lost  ground  on  all  hands,  because  it  was  worn  out  and 
decrepit." 

In  order  to  follow  the  story  of  Goldoni's  theatrical 
reform  and  the  critical  warfare  it  aroused,  the  nature 
of  Improvised  Comedy  must  be  understood.  Like 
the  drama  of  the  Greeks,  its  beginnings  were  of  the 
humblest; — though  it  did  not  bloom  until  the  six- 
teenth century,  its  seeds  were  already  sown  when  the 
renaissance  of  art  and  letters  began.  The  maskers, 
merry-andrews,  and  buffoons,  against  whom  the  voice 
of  the  Church  had  been  thundering  through  the  mid- 
dle ages,  the  very  mimes  whose  antics  had  profaned 
the  sacred  drama -and  whom  the  scholars  of  the  Re- 
naissance looked  indulgently  down  upon,  emerged 
from  the  terrifying  shadow  of  ecclesiasticism  to  jin- 
gle their  bells  and  beat  their  bladders  defiantly,  once 
the  strictures  of  the  clergy  were  relaxed,  some  to 
montar  In  banco,  or  mount  the  bench  in  the  market 


90  GOLDONI 

place  as  mountebanks,  others  to  buff  are,  or  jest,  before 
noble  patrons,  as  buffoons. 

At  the  time  the  Improvised  Comedy  attained  a 
form  distinct  from  the  mere  pranks  of  clowns,  society, 
humanistically  mad  since  Petrarch's  day,  had  begun 
to  acknowledge  its  failure  to  make  other  than  a  sham 
Greece  of  itself;  meanwhile,  the  common  people, 
flocking  to  the  booths  at  the  fairs,  gave  hearty  laugh- 
ter to  the  drolleries  there — broad  farces  outlined  by 
the  cleverest  fellow  in  the  troupe  and  acted  by  him- 
self and  mates,  with  dialogues  extemporized  for  the 
occasion.  The  livelihood  of  these  mountebanks  was 
found  in  the  coppers  of  the  multitude ;  their  task  was 
to  make  the  populace  laugh.  To  be  so  ready  of  wit 
that  the  tongue  could  not  fail  when  a  laugh  was  de- 
manded, required  a  degree  of  dexterity  no  gawky  am- 
ateur, "awkward,  embarrassed,  stiff,  without  the  skill 
of  moving  gracefully  or  standing  still,"  could  possi- 
bly attain ;  hence  the  mountebank  became  a  craftsman 
skilled  in  his  calling — in  a  word,  a  professional  actor. 
He  wafe  a  playv#r?£ht,  too,  since  he  was  the  builder 
of  his  dwn  pltyS^  but  not  a  play-writer, — beoatfse  only 
the  outline  of  his  medium,  the  scenario,  as  it  was 
called,  was  reduced  to  written  words.  In  this  way 
a  popular  drama  arose  at  the  vintage  festivals  and  in 
the  market  places.  When  it  had  grown  to  vigorous 
youth,  it  absorbed  the  classic  plots  which  the  scholars 
of  the  Renaissance  had  failed  to  popularize,  and  un- 
folded them  with  its  own  Italian  characters.  Arios- 
to's  The  Disguised  (I  Suppositi),  for  instance,  and 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY          91 

The  Ghost  Story  (Mostellaria)  of  Plautus  passed  to 
the  stage  of  the  Improvised  Comedy,  while  from  the 
novelle  of  the  time  many  a  scenario  was  drawn.  In- 
deed, to  quote  Dr.  Winifred  Smith's  scholarly  mon- 
ograph on  the  subject: 2 

In  so  confused  a  situation  no  one  reason  for  the  origin  of  the 
Commedia  dell'  arte  can  be  singled  out  as  decisive,  though  it  is  per- 
fectly easy  to  see  that  its  peculiarities  sprang  from  tenacious  and  by 
no  means  unique  folk  customs  and  that  under  academic  super- 
vision they  were  pruned  and  trained  by  the  skilful  hands  of  the 
professional  actors  who  later  spread  them  broadcast  over  Europe. 

In  this  way  the  popular  comedy  of  the  market 
place  became  a  specific  and  strongly  marked  dra- 
matic type — the  Commedia  delV  arte,  or  Improvised 
Comedy — a  lusty  child  of  Thalia  that  eventually 
smothered  its  puny  sister,  the  Erudite  Comedy,  to  rule 
supreme  in  Italy  until  Goldoni  dethroned  it  with  his 
naturalistic  comedies  of  Venetian  life. 

Throughout  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  of  its 
vogue,  the  dialogue  of  the  Improvised  Comedy  re- 
mained largely  unwritten;  only  a  scenario,  or  as  it 
was  originally  called,  a  soggetto,  being  given  to  the 
actors, — a  canevas,  or  canvas,  as  it  was  termed  in 
France  (in  England  a  plat],  on  which  to  embroider 
spontaneous  humour.  When  a  scenario  had  become 
popular,  however,  and  the  actors  had  repeated  their 
parts  so  often  that  their  extemporized  lines  became 
fixed  in  their  minds — a  true  survival,  in  this  case,  of 
the  fittest— the  dialogue  was  partially  written  in. 

2  The  Commedia  dell'  Arte,  A  Study  in  Italian  Popular  Comedy. 


92  GOLDONI 

Among  the  writers  of  scenari,  Niccolo  Secchi  and 
Niccolo  Barbieri  are  notable  as  having  supplied  plots 
to  Moliere,  while  Flaminio  Scala's  collection  of 
fifty  plays  in  outline,3  published  in  1611,  is  the  most 
varied  and  complete  collection  of  scenari  that  sur- 
vives, his  extravaganzas  being  the  forerunners  of 
Carlo  Gozzi's  fiabe  teatrali  both  in  scenic  and  fan- 
tastic appeal.  Indeed,  the  methods  of  the  Impro- 
vised Comedy  were  by  no  means  confined  to  the 
lighter  mediums,  but  were  used  in  the  construction 
of  serious  and  romantic  drama  as  well,  known  as 
royal  work  (opera  reale) ,  heroic  work  (opera  eroica) , 
or  mixed  work  (opera  mista) ,  in  the  last  of  which  the 
serious  and  lighter  elements  commingled.  The  ex- 
temporized serious  drama  was  too  sentimentally  ab- 
surd, however,  too  silly  a  jumble  of  history  and 
pathos,  to  entitle  it  to  much  consideration;  yet  occa- 
sionally a  scenario  of  the  kind  survives,  as  in  the  case 
of  The  Guest  of  Stone  (II  Convltato  di  pietra)  — 
an  extemporized  interpretation  of  Tirso  de  Molina's 
Spanish  play  The  Scoffer  of  Seville  (El  Burlador 
de  Sevilla).  Far  more  than  the  Spanish  original — 
or  even  than  Moliere's  Don  Juan — has  the  Italian 
scenario  supplied  the  story  for  Mozart's  opera  of 
Don  Giovanni,  its  lazzi  or  buffooneries  being  almost 
identical  with  those  made  familiar  by  Leporello. 

The  lazzi  form  a  thoroughly  distinctive  feature  of 
the    Improvised    Comedy.     This    word,    meaning 

3  //   Teatro  delle  favole  rappresentative,  overo  la  ricreatione  comica, 
boscareccia  e  tragica,  etc.    (sic.). 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY          93 

"knots"  (lazzi  being  the  Lombardian  expression  for 
the  Tuscan  lacci),  is  used  to  denote  the  scenes 
wherein  the  buffoons  interrupt  the  story  with  irre- 
levant pranks — scenes  of  a  kind  which  Shakespeare 
frequently  wrote  for  his  clowns,  in  order  to  relieve  the 
tensity  of  his  plots,  and  which  in  England  were  called 
"jigs."  "We  give  the  name  lazzi/'  says  Luigi  Ric- 
coboni,4  "to  the  sallies  or  by-play  with  which  the 
harlequins,  or  other  mask  actors,  interrupt  a  scene  in 
progress — it  may  be  by  expressions  of  astonishment 
or  terror,  or  by  humorous  extravagances  foreign  to 
the  matter  in  hand."  A  lazzo  had  little  or  nothing 
to  do  with  the  action  of  the  play  and  sometimes  told 
a  waggish  story  of  its  own.  The  interruptions  by  the 
comedians  of  a  modern  opera  bouffe  with  drolleries 
having  no  possible  bearing  on  the  story  are  lazzi; 
although,  instead  of  occasionally  "gagging"  the  au- 
thor's lines  for  laughs  in  the  manner  of  the  modern 
funny  man,  the  buffoons  of  the  Improvised  Comedy 
were  sent  upon  the  stage  with  their  own  spontaneity 
as  the  sole  peg  on  which  to  hang  their  humour. 

Another  distinctive  element  of  the  Improvised 
Comedy  was  the  doti  or  dowries,  composed  of  mem- 
orized passages  used  to  emphasize  vital  points  of  the 
story.  Each  actor  had  his  zibaldone,  too,  a  medley 
of  phrases  subdivided  into  various  classifications, 
which,  if  appropriately  interpolated,  ensured  vocifer- 
ous applause.  To  be  more  specific,  the  lazzi  were 
the  extemporized  jests  of  the  buffoons;  the  doti  the 

*Histoire  de  I'ancien  theatre  italien. 


94  GOLDONI 

memorized  lines  necessary  for  elucidating  a  particu- 
lar play;  the  zibaldone  an  actor's  stock  of  speeches 
used  in  any  play  as  opportunity  arose. 

The  buffoons,  with  their  sallies  of  dialect  wit,  were 
adept  in  the  art  of  extemporizing;  whereas  the  actors 
playing  Tuscan  characters,  the  lovers  and  serious- 
minded  persons  of  the  play,  so  called  because  they 
did  not  speak  in  dialect,  had  such  frequent  recourse  to 
their  zibaldone,  that  it  eventually  became  customary 
to  write  down  the  serious  scenes,  while  leaving  the 
lazzi  to  be  extemporized.  This  latter  feature  of  the 
Improvised  Comedy,  therefore,  was  the  last  element 
to  survive  in  improvisation.  Originally,  however, 
the  task  of  the  playwright  was  merely  to  outline  the 
scenes  of  his  play,  and  indicate  the  exits  and  en- 
trances, together  with  the  length  of  time  that  might 
be  allotted  a  love  scene  or  a  lazzo.  The  actors  were 
enjoined  to  learn  where  the  scene  was  laid,  so  as  not 
to  speak  of  Rome  if  Naples  were  intended,  and  above 
all,  to  be  sure  of  the  names  of  the  characters  in  the 
play,  a  father  naturally  being  required  to  know  the 
name  of  his  son,  a  lover  that  of  his  mistress.  This 
being  accomplished,  the  scenario  was  posted  in  the 
wings  where  all  might  consult  it.  To  the  actor's  wit 
and  the  ingenuity  of  the  corago,  or  stage  manager, 
was  left  the  devising  of  the  dialogue  and  stage  busi- 
ness. Such  was  a  scenario — a  canvas  on  which  a  play 
was  to  be  embroidered. 

Dialogue  had  dominated  the  religious  plays;  ac- 
tion governed  the  extemporized  comedies.  They 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY          95 

were  quick  in  movement  and  replete  in  stage  busi- 
ness, words  being  subordinated  to  action,  as  indeed 
they  should  be;  a  dramatic  story,  if  well  constructed, 
being  actable  in  pantomime.  Moreover,  upon  the 
dexterity  of  the  actor,  as  much  as  upon  the  cleverness 
of  the  playwright,  rested  the  success  of  an  improvised 
comedy.  "To  a  comedian  who* depends  upon  impro- 
visation," says  Riccoboni,  "face,  memory,  voice,  and 
sentiment  are  not  enough.  If  he  would  distinguish 
himself,  he  must  possess  a  lively  and  fertile  imagina- 
tion, a  great  facility  in  expression;  he  must  master 
the  subtleties  of  the  language,  too,  and  have  at  his 
disposal  a  full  knowledge  of  all  that  is  required  for 
the  different  situations  in  which  his  role  places 
him."  5 

Although  the  buffoons  of  the  Improvised  Comedy  / 
were  adroit  to  a  degree  that  would  shame  a  modern  ^ 
funny  man,  their  sprightly  wit  was  far  from  cleanly 
and  sometimes  trespassed  too  far  upon  the  little  de- 
cency left  to  their  dissolute  age;  for  instance,  at  Mi- 
lan, in  1583,  the  performances  of  a  certain  Adriano 
Valerini  were  interrupted  by  the  governor's  orders, 
and  were  allowed  to  be  continued  only  after  the 
srenari  of  his  plays  had  been  examined  by  the  arch- 
bishop of  Milan  and  nothing  reprehensible  found 
therein;  yet,  in  spite  of  this  censorship,  Valerini  and 
his  buffoons  might  interpolate  in  their  lazzi  obscenity 
and  even  sedition,  and  if  haled  before  the  authorities, 
show  their  harmless  scenari  as  proof  of  their  inno- 

5  Op.  cit. 


96  GOLDONI 

cence.  Indeed,  the  flexibility  of  the  Improvised 
Comedy  made  it  an  efficient  patriotic  implement  dur- 
ing the  centuries  when  Italy  was  languishing  under 
foreign  tyrants,  an  actor's  extemporized  words  hav- 
ing frequently  a  sting  of  bitter  hate,  which  was  care- 
fully tempered  when  officials  of  a  despised  alien  gov- 
ernment were  present.6 

That  this  patriotism,  alas!  was  contaminated  by 
many  vices  is  evidenced  by  authors  of  that  day. 
Niccolo  Barbieri,  himself  an  actor,  in  his  apology 
for  the  dramatic  profession,  reluctantly  admits  that 
the  sins  an  actor  may  commit  while  acting  are  "to 
praise  vice,  speak  with  unbounded  license,  make  ges- 
tures so  evil  that  they  excite  the  spectators  to  wanton- 
ness, deride  sacred  objects,  exhibit  holy  men  and 
women  in  the  story,  act  during  Lent  as  if  by  mistake, 
pronounce  blasphemies,  introduce  noted  cases  that 
may  dishonour  families,  make  women  appear  with 
their  bodies  partly  naked,  etc.,  etc."  7  "It  may  be 
said  that  the  comic  stage  is  little  else  than  a  shameful 
school  of  unchastity  and  deceit,"  adds  Alessandro  Tas- 
soni,  another  writer  of  the  period;  a  charge  corrob- 
orated by  the  equally  condemnatory  words  of 
Tommaso  Garzoni,  to  the  effect  that  "the  stage  of 
such  a  generation  of  men  was  a  school  of  impurity, 
excess,  cunning,  and  rascality." 

Of  the  histrionic  vagabondage  of  the  time  the  last 
named  writer,  a  jurisconsult  of  the  sixteenth  century 

6  During  the  Roman  empire  it  was  the  habit  of  the  Atellanae  players 
to  satirize  the  ruling  classes,  even  the  Emperor  not  being  exempt. 

7  La  Supplica,  etc. 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY          97 

with  an  exceedingly  human  pen,  draws  this  droll 
picture: 

When  comedians  enter  a  town,  they  at  once  make  it  known  with 
their  drum  that  my  lords  the  actors  have  arrived.  Dressed  as  a 
man  and  with  sword  in  hand,  the  leading  lady,  mustering  the  peo- 
ple, bids  them  welcome  at  a  comedy,  a  tragedy,  or  a  pastoral  to  be 
enacted  in  the  town  hall  or  the  Pilgrim's  Inn.  Adoring  novelties, 
by  nature  curious,  the  common  herd,  shelling  out  its  coppers, 
hastens  to  fill  the  room  arranged  for  the  performance.  Here  is  a 
temporary  stage,  a  scene  done  in  charcoal  with  scant  taste.  A  pre- 
liminary concert  of  asses  and  rakes  is  heard,  then  the  charlatan's 
prologue,  a  thundering  as  rough  as  Fra  Stoppino's  voice,  gestures 
as  hateful  as  the  plague,  interludes  deserving  to  be  spitted  a  thou- 
sand times.  The  magnifico  is  not  worth  a  copper;  the  zany  is  a 
goose;  the  graziano  sputters  his  words;  the  stupid  go-between  is 
tiresome;  the  lover  waves  his  arms  madly  with  every  speech  he 
utters;  the  Spanish  villain  offers  nothing  to  the  entertainment  un- 
less it  be  "mi  vida"  and  "ml  corazon"  ;  the  pedant  shies  at  Tus- 
can words  continually;  the  burattino's  only  gesture  is  to  put  on 
and  take  off  his  cap;  while  the  leading  lady,  stupid  above  all  in 
her  diction,  dull  in  her  elocution,  drowsy  in  her  gestures,  is  a  per- 
petual foe  of  the  graces  and  holds  a  mortal  enmity  to  beauty.8 

In  this  sprightly  description  of  the  trials  and  va- 
garies of  an  Italian  theatrical  troupe  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  several  features  are  to  be  noted  as  pertinent. 
The  performance,  it  will  be  seen,  was  given  upon  a 
stage  erected  in  a  room,  not  on  an  open-air  stage  in  the 
market  place,  of  the  sort  upon  which  the  Improvised 
Comedy  was  originally  presented.  Scenery  was 
used,  too,  instead  of  the  back  curtains  seen  in  early 
prints  of  Italian  dramatic  performances,  as  well  as 
in  Callot's  spirited  drawings  of  the  characters  which 

8  La  Piazza  universale  di  tutte  le  profession  del  mondo. 


98  GOLDONI 

appeared  in  the  Improvised  Comedy.  Indeed,  it  is 
none  too  generally  known  that  theatres  with  circular 
or  elliptical  auditoriums,  rising  tiers  of  seats,  aisles 
and  exits,  and  stages  enclosed  by  painted  scenery 
drawn  in  perspective,  were  first  built  in  Italy.  The 
Elizabethan  theatre,  open  to  the  sky,  was  but  remotely 
related  to  the  modern  playhouse,  and  like  the  Span- 
ish theatre  retained  the  characteristics  of  an  inn-yard. 
The  Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  built  in  1548  on  the  site 
of  the  ancient  palace  of  that  name,  had  a  flat  floor 
(parterre]  without  seats,  and  a  stage  with  stationary 
scenery  (decors  simultanes)  similar  to  the  mansions 
used  for  the  religious  drama.  Richelieu's  theatre  in 
the  Palais  Cardinal,  which  more  nearly  approached 
our  modern  theatres  in  equipment  and  design,  was  not 
inaugurated  until  1641,  over  fifty  years  after  the  open- 
ing of  Palladio's  famous  Teatro  Olimpico  at  Vicenza 
— a  theatre  essentially  like  modern  playhouses  in 
design,  and  having  a  proscenium  and  elaborate 
painted  scenery 9  enclosing  the  entire  stage.  More- 
over, nearly  a  century  before  the  Teatro  Olimpico  was 
built,  a  theatre  was  erected  in  Rome  during  the  pon- 
tificate of  Sixtus  IV;  and  in  1486  Duke  Ercole  I 

9  Though  begun  by  Palladio  in  1579,  the  Teatro  Olimpico  was  not 
finished  until  1584,  four  years  after  his  death.  Previously,  in  1565,  ac- 
cording to  Pompeo  Molmenti  (La  Storia  di  Venezia  nella  vita  privata), 
this  great  architect  had  built  at  Venice  "in  the  vestibule  of  the  monastery 
of  Santa  Maria  della  Carita,  a  wooden  amphitheatre  for  use  as  a  coli- 
seum, with  possibly  the  distribution  and  forms  imitated  from  the  Roman 
models  which  he  adopted  in  the  designs  for  the  Teatro  Olimpico  at 
Vicenza."  In  1588  Scamozzi  built  another  pseudo-classical  theatre  at 
Sabbioneta.  Moreover  temporary  stages  were  frequently  erected  in 
palaces  for  special  performances. 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY          99 

built  "a  magnificent  theatre"  in  Ferrara,  while  in  the 
first  decade  of  the  sixteenth  century  Bramante  con- 
structed in  the  court  of  the  Vatican  a  theatre  modelled 
after  that  of  the  ancients.10 

The  leading  lady  in  her  male  attire,  of  whom  Gar- 
zoni  speaks,  is  another  notable  feature  of  the  Italian 
stage.  On  rare  occasions  women  performed  as  ama- 
teurs in  the  mystery  and  miracle  plays,  but  to  the 
stage  of  the  Improvised  Comedy  the  world  owes  the 
introduction  of  professional  actresses  to  replace 
young  men  and  boys  in  the  female  roles — an  innova- 
tion Spain,  owing  probably  to  its  contact  with  Italy 
through  conquest,  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  for- 
eign country  to  adopt.  Even  in  Moliere's  day  old 
women's  parts  were  still  acted  in  France  by  men. 
In  England,  although  Coryat,  the  traveller,  gives 
hearsay  evidence  that  actresses  had  appeared  in  Lon- 
don in  his  day  (1577-1617),  French  actresses  were 
pelted  with  rotten  eggs  and  apples  as  late  as  1629, 
because  their  sex  was  considered  an  offence  to  theatri- 
cal decency.  Mrs.  Coleman,  the  first  English  actress 
did  not  appear  upon  the  stage  until  1656.  The  first 
French  actress  of  whom  there  is  any  record,  is  Marie 
Fairet,  who  in  1545,  "engaged  herself  to  one  L'Espe- 
ronniere  for  a  year  to  play  in  such  manner  that  it  will 
please  all  who  see  her";  yet  there  is  evidence  that 
two  women  appeared  in  public  with  Beolco  in  Italy 
as  early  as  1529,  at  least  to  sing  songs  and  madrigals. 

10  Carlo  Borghi,  op.  cit. ;  and  Dr.  Karl  Mantzius,  A  History  of  Thea- 
trical Art,  Vol.  II. 


ioo  GOLDONI 

Actresses  had  become  so  common  in  Italy  as  early 
as  1562,  that  a  contemporary  dubs  one  of  them  "a 
beautiful  comedienne  who  has  enamoured  many," 
while  the  famous  Isabella  Andreini,  born  in  that  year, 
was  able  to  mount  the  boards  at  the  age  of  sixteen 
without  hindrance.  Indeed,  the  stage  owes  to  Italy 
not  only  the  invention  of  scenery  producing  perspec- 
tive illusion,  but  the  introduction  by  means  of  the 
wandering  troupes  playing  improvised  comedies,  of 
professional  actors  and  actresses,  and  also  theatrical 
make-up — all  the  ingredients  which  distinguish  the 
modern  from  the  mediaeval  drama  being  found  on  the 
stage  of  the  Improvised  Comedy.11 

Many  writers,  it  is  true,  have  found  in  the  religious 
drama  of  the  Middle  Ages  the  source  of  the  modern 
drama,  an  error  that  must  have  arisen  from  ignorance 
of  the  Improvised  Comedy  of  Italy.  Though  the 
Elizabethan  drama  and  the  Spanish  classical  drama 
are  the  heirs  of  the  religious  drama,  they  are  not  mod- 
ern in  the  sense  that  Moliere  is  modern.  In  the  con- 
struction of  his  plays,  the  great  Frenchman  adapted 
the  technic  of  the  Improvised  Comedy  to  his  pur- 
poses. His  characters,  too,  are  with  a  few  notable 
exceptions  the  characters  of  the  Improvised  Comedy, 
naturalized  as. Frenchmen.  His  plays  written  to  be 
performed  in  roofed  theatres,  on  stages  lighted  ar- 
tificially and  adorned  with  scenery,  may  be  given  to- 
day without  the  excision  of  a  single  line,  and  are  in 

11  Dr.  Karl  Mantzius,  Vol.  II,  op.  cit.;  Dr.  Winified  Smith,  op.  cit.  and 
Italian  and  Elizabethan  Comedy;  T.  Coryat,  Coryat's  Crudities;  A.  D'An- 
cona,  Origini  del  teatro  italiano. 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY        101 

every  essential,  except  atmosphere,  modern  plays. 
Surely  this  cannot  be  said  of  the  plays  of  Shakespeare 
or  any  Elizabethan  dramatist!  Indeed,  the  construc- 
tion of  the  modern  drama  is  derived  from  the  Italian 
Improvised  Comedy  far  more  than  from  either  the 
classic  or  Elizabethan  drama. 

Another  vital  feature  of  the  Improvised  Comedy 
is  the  characterization,  as  exemplified  by  Pantalone, 
Arlecchino,  Colombina,  Pulcinella,  Scaramuccia, 
Fracasso,  and  their  merry  mates.  Bereft  of  Italian 
softness,  these  names  have  become  household  words. 
Pantaloon,  Harlequin,  and  Columbine  still  frolic, 
albeit  in  pantomime  or  masquerade;  Punch,  with  his 
hump  and  paunch,  is  both  puppet  and  humorist; 
Scaramouche  has  become  a  word  in  every  tongue; 
Capitaine  Fracasse  spells  vagabond  romance.  Yet 
the  lean  and  slippery  dolt  and  the  spangled,  tumbling 
sprite,  who  have  delighted  so  many  generations  of 
English  schoolboys,  differ  almost  as  greatly  from 
their  Italian  namesakes  as  does  the  Punch  of  the  pup- 
pet booth  from  roguish  Pulcinella,  true  mirror  of  the 
Neapolitan  proletariat  during  its  foreign  bondage. 
Made  mute  in  France,  these  characters  of  the  Im- 
provised Comedy  of  Italy  crossed  to  free  England, 
there  to  dwell  unhampered;  yet,  being  sun-loving 
southerners,  they  withered  and  declined  in  the  cold 
northern  air.  They  bear  now  but  a  faint  semblance 
of  their  former  merry  selves.12 

12  Some  of  the  Italian  buffoons  joined  the  ranks  of  the  French  forains 
and  acted  in  the  parades,  when  their  theatre  was  temporarily  closed  in 


102  GOLDONI 

They  are  called  masks  because  the  actors  playing 
them  habitually  concealed  their  features;  yet,  these 
leathern  face-coverings  were  but  the  outward  marks 
by  which  Arlecchino  was  distinguished  from  Panta- 
lone,  Brighella,  and  Pulcinella,  their  natures  being 
radically,  ay,  racially,  distinct.  Throughout  cen- 
turies of  political  strife  and  humanistic  rivalry 
in  learning,  each  Italian  city  had  retained  its  local 
characteristics;  when  the  Improvised  Comedy  was 
brewed  from  the  lees  of  lower-class  buffoonery  and 
renaissance  refinement,  many  a  city  added  its  own 
spice  to  the  popular  decoction.  /  The  elements  which 
fermented  it,  however,  an  unerring  sense  of  humour, 
a  love  of  pleasure,  freedom,  and  mirth,  were  common 
to  the  Italic  races  and  among  their  oldest  possessions. 
Wandering  from  town  to  town,  their  ranks  recruited 
in  every  province,  the  actors  of  the  Improvised  Com- 
edy learned  the  distinguishing  traits  of  the  inhab- 
itants of  each  locality,  and  evolved  humorous  mask 
characters  to  typify  certain  cities  or  provinces,  each 
speaking  the  dialect  of  his  birthplace.  The  senti- 
mental characters,  however,  were  performed  by  un- 
masked actors  speaking  Italian.  In  the  course  of 
time,  the  masks  became  separated  into  two  distinct 
groups,  the  one  Venetian,  or  representative  of  the 

1697.  After  the  banishment  of  the  Comedie  Itallenne  from  the  Hotel  de 
Bourgogne  to  the  Theatre  Favart,  during  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  French  royal  edicts  for  the  protection  of  the  Comedie  Frangaise 
and  the  Opera  forbade  the  actors  at  other  theatres  to  speak  or  sing  their 
lines,  thus  compelling  both  the  Italians  and  the  foralns  to  resort  to  panto- 
mime. In  this  way,  Pantaloon  and  Harlequin  became  pantomime  char- 
acters, and  as  such  were  introduced  into  English  pantomime. 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY        103 

north,  the  other  Neapolitan,  or  southern;  the  north- 
ern masks— Pantalone,  Brighella,  Arlecchino,  and 
II  Dottore — having  a  firmer  hold  upon  the  affections 
of  the  public  than  any  of  their  southern  kin,  except 
Pulcinella.  They,  too,  as  will  be  seen,  played  an  im- 
portant part  in  Goldoni's  work. 

Ring  up  the  curtain!  Let  these  masks  step  forth, 
each  in  his  traditional  garb!  First  comes  the  good- 
hearted  Pantalone,  the  simple,  yet  shrewd  Venetian 
merchant,  in  his  black  mantle  and  the  long,  red  trou- 
sers that  bear  his  name.  On  his  head  is  a  skull-cap, 
red  slippers  adorn  his  toes,  and  though  beards  are  no 
longer  the  mode  in  Venice,  to  denote  his  ancient  an- 
tecedents, a  pointed  beard  and  long  mustachios  peep 
from  beneath  the  half-mask  that  hides  his  features. 
"He  is  a  merchant,"  Goldoni  assures  us,  "because 
Venice  was  in  ancient  times  the  state  having  the  rich- 
est and  most  extended  commerce  of  any  in  Italy." 
His  costume  is  that  of  a  Venetian  merchant  in  An- 
tonio's day;  even  in  Goldoni's  time  his  black  robe 
and  woollen  skull-cap  were  still  to  be  seen  upon  the 
Rialto.  Pantalone  de'  Bisognosi  is  his  full  name; 
sometimes  he  is  called  Babilonio,  sometimes,  as  in 
the  barn-storming  company  described  by  Tommaso 
Garzoni — II  Magnifico.  His  ectypes  are  Ubaldo, 
Pandolfo,  Oronte,  Geronte,  Cassandro,  etc.,  several 
of  whom  became  the  old  men  of  Moliere's  plays. 
Pantalone  is  the  first  old  man  of  the  Improvised  Com- 
edy— easy-going,  honest,  yet  canny  withal,  a  bachelor 
sometimes,  more  often  a  widower  with  an  only  daugh- 


104  GOLDONI 

ter  on  whom  he  dotes:  in  his  prime  he  is  a  sensible 
bourgeois,  indulgent  to  his  neighbours  and  homely 
of  wit;  in  his  decadence  the  shuffling,  senile  fool  of 
the  Christmas  pantomime.  To  do  him  full  justice, 
his  name  should  perhaps  be  written  Piantaleone,  or 
Plant  the  Lion;  for  he  was  once  a  Venetian  cittadino 
of  the  sterling  sort,  who,  in  the  days  of  Venetian 
glory,  planted  the  lioned  banner  of  Saint  Mark  wher- 
ever the  Mediterranean  breezes  blew.13 

Venetian  Pantalone  having  made  his  bow,  let  II 
Dottore,  the  Bolognese,  step  before  us  in  academic 
gown  and  unstarched  linen  collar.  In  his  belt  is 
stuck  a  handkerchief — or  perchance  a  curved  knife ; 
on  his  head  is  either  a  turban-like  cap  or  a  black  felt 
hat  with  an  enormous  brim.  A  half-mask  hides  his 
nose  and  forehead,  his  cheek  is  smudged  with  red  to 
represent  a  birth-mark.  "His  dress,"  to  quote  Gol- 
doni,  "preserves  the  costume  of  the  university  and 
bar  of  Bologna,  which  is  almost  the  same  to-day, 
and  the  singular  mask  which  covers  his  forehead  and 
nose  was  inspired  by  a  birth-mark  that  defaced  the 
features  of  an  early  jurisconsult."  II  Dottore  is  the 
second  old  man.  His  name  is  generally  Graziano, 
sometimes  it  is  Baloardo  Graziano,  Prudentio,  Hip- 

13  Pantalone  is  said  by  Boerio,  the  compiler  of  a  Venetian  dialect  glos- 
sary, to  be  derived  from  Piantaleone;  others  give  San  Pantaleone  as  the 
patron  saint  of  all  pantaloons.  Yet,  "he  was  quite  certainly  not  chris- 
tened after  this  saint,"  says  Dr.  Winifred  Smith,  "nor  does  he  seem  to- 
have  been  named  because  he  represents  a  Magnifico  who  planted  the  lion 
of  Venice  in  the  Levant."  However,  as  this  painstaking  writer  upholds 
no  other  origin  of  the  name,  not  even  "pantos-elemon,"  a  modern  deriva- 
tion from  the  Greek,  there  seems  to  be  no  valid  reason  why  Boerio's  defi- 
nition should  not  be  accepted. 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY        105 

pocrasso,  or  Balanzon  Lombardo.  Usually  a  lawyer, 
occasionally  a  physician,  astrologer,  grammarian,  or 
philosopher,  he  makes  a  vast  parade  of  learning,  yet 
never  speaks  without  uttering  some  pompous  absur- 
dity— law  jargon,  macaronic  Latin,  irrational  syl- 
logisms, or  any  preposterous  pedantry  an  actor  could 
invent,  all  uttered  in  a  broad  Bolognese  dialect. 
Moliere's  doctors  are  characters  suggestive  of  II 
Dottore  of  the  Improvised  Comedy;  while  Rossini's 
opera,  The  Barber  of  Seville  (II  Barbiere  dl  Sivi- 
glia),  founded  on  Beaumarchais's  comedy,  preserves 
both  the  first  and  the  second  old  man  of  the  Impro- 
vised Comedy  for  modern  audiences,  Bartolo  being 
Pantalone  unmasked  and  Don  Basilio,  II  Dottore 
without  his  birth-marked  cheek. 

Pantalone  and  II  Dottore,  in  characteristics  the 
series  of  Latin  comedy,  were  but  half  masks,  taking 
part  in  the  story  of  the  play  as  well  as  in  the  lazzl; 
the  full  masks,  appearing  solely  in  the  lazzi,  being 
Arlecchino  and  Brighella,  the  two  Zanni ^  so  called, 
both  hailing  from  the  country-side  of  Bergamo  and 
both  servants;  the  one  gluttonous,  credulous,  light- 
hearted,  the  other  a  clever,  pimping  rogue.15 

Let  these  rascals  appear !    Spryly  Arlecchino  makes 

14  The  Zanni  are  in  character  so  similar  to  the  low  comedy  parts  of 
Latin  comedy,  that  this  term  has  been  held  to  be  a  corruption  of  Sanniones. 
A  more  likely  origin  of  the  word,  however,  is  to  consider  Zanni  a  Ber- 
gamask   corruption   of    Giovanni,   which   becomes   our   English   Zany,   a 
silly- John,  the  diminutive  Zannarello  being  the  French  Sganarelle. 

15  Truffaldino,  Trivellino,  Bagattino,  Burattino,  Mezzettino,  and  their 
kind  were  but  the  stupid  sons  of  Arlecchino;  the  rogue  Brighella  father- 
ing a  score  of  scamps  as  well,  Pedrolino   (Pierrot),  Beltramo,  Frontino, 


io6  GOLDONI 

his  entrance,  for  his  nimbleness  will  turn  him  in  the 
course  of  time  into  a  mute  ballet  dancer.  Naively  he 
talks  to  the  audience  from  beneath  his  black  half- 
mask,  a  silly,  ingenuous  fellow,  ever  being  tricked 
by  Brighella,  his  roguish  colleague,  which  makes  the 
comedians  themselves  dub  him  the  second  zany, 
Brighella  being  the  first.  Sprightly  Arlecchino 
wears  the  tight-fitting  suit  of  a  country  servant, 
the  rags  and  patches  of  which  have  been  conven- 
tionalized into  variegated  triangles  of  red,  green, 
and  yellow.  Whiskers  bristle  beneath  his  mask,  un- 
der his  arm  is  a  wooden  sword,  a  small  bag  dangles 
from  his  belt,  on  his  head  is  a  soft  cap  decked  with 
the  hare's  scut  which  Goldoni  assures  us  was,  even 
in  his  day,  the  distinguishing  adornment  of  a  Ber- 
gamask.  Agile,  compliant,  credulous,  yet  gay,  the 
personality  of  this  valet  changes  with  that  of  each 
actor  playing  him;  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  Bri- 
ghella, Pantalone,  II  Dottore,  and  the  other  masks ; 
for,  just  as  various  actors  interpret  Hamlet  differ- 
ently, so  the  buffoons  of  the  Improvised  Comedy, 
while  retaining  fundamental  characteristics,  made 
different  dolts  or  rascals  of  their  roles ;  some  imitative 
of  actors  who  had  gone  before,  playing  their  parts 
traditionally,  others  becoming  creative  artists. 

But  Arlecchino  stands  alone  upon  the  stage.     His 
knavish  mate  Brighella  awaits  his  cue.     No  vari- 

Gradellino,  and  Bagolino  being  his  children,  or  he  the  offspring  of  one 
of  them,  this  picaresque  ancestry  being  somewhat  difficult  to  trace.  In 
Figaro's  veins  Brighella's  blood  flows,  too,  other  notable  offspring  being 
Mascarille,  Sganarelle,  and  Scapin. 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY        107 

coloured  patches  mar  the  latter's  sleekness.  He  is 
the  servant  of  some  rich  young  rake  and  wears  livery 
consisting  of  a  loose  white  shirt,  trimmed  with  green 
lace,  and  wide  white  trousers.  A  brown  half-mask 
hides  his  features,  a  dagger  is  in  his  belt,  on  his  head 
is  a  white  cap,  or  bonnet  plumed  with  red  feathers, 
which,  in  the  course  of  time,  becomes  conical,  just 
as  his  tanned  mask  gives  place  to  the  white  flour  that 
characterizes  his  brother  Pedrolino's  (Pierrot's)  face, 
a  degenerate  Brighella  being  our  modern  clown. 
Like  Arlecchino,  his  stupid  farce-mate,  Brighella  is 
a  Bergamask,  his  tawny  mask  being  intended,  as  Gol- 
doni  tells  us,  "to  indicate  the  complexion  of  the  in- 
habitants of  those  high  mountains,  burned  by  the  heat 
of  the  sun."  Roguish,  cowardly,  yet  nimble-witted, 
Brighella  is  ever  ready  to  aid  his  libertine  young 
master — or  any  one  else  who  will  tip  him — in  any 
devilry;  in  a  word,  he  is  the  rascally  valet  who  in 
Spain  was  called  the  gracioso;  yet  who  is  best  known 
to  us  through  our  acquaintance  with  his  offspring,  the 
Mascarille  and  Scapin  of  Moliere.  ,^ 

"The  four  masks  of  Italian  comedy,"  Goldoni  calls 
these  four  characters.  To  have  said  the  "four  masks 
of  Venetian  comedy"  would  have  been  more  exact, 
since  at  Naples,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  ancient 
Atella,  the  birthplace  of  buffoonery,  other  mask  char- 
acters sprang  forth,  quite  as  Italian  as  those  of  the 
north.  To  Goldoni,  who  first  saw  these  southern 
masks  at  Rome  when  he  was  past  fifty,  Venice  spelled 
Italy ;  yet  in  Pulcinella  the  Neapolitan,  quite  as  much 


io8  GOLDONI 

as  in  Arlecchino  or  Pantalone,  live  the  characteristics 
of  a  people,  Francesco  Cerlone — a  poor  artisan  of 
Naples — being  the  poet  who  made  him  the  protago- 
nist of  his  race.  Without  discussing  whether  or  not 
Pulcinella  be  descended  from  Maccus,  the  fool  of 
Atellan  farce,  or  from  Pulcinella  dalle  Carceri,  a 
grotesque  patriot  of  the  thirteenth  century,  it  may 
be  said  that  his  modern  debut  was  made  in  the  six- 
teenth century  in  the  white  shirt  and  breeches  of  a 
countryman  of  Acerra,  his  black  mask,  long  nose, 
hump,  paunch,  dagger,  and  truncheon  being  later  ad- 
ditions. Time,  alas!  has  given  him  a  foolish  wife 
and  made  him  a  mere  puppet,  though  little  more  than 
a  century  ago,  in  Cerlone's  clever  hand,  he  mirrored 
a  people  and  an  age. 

Other  masks  of  the  south  are  Coviello,  the  Cala- 
brian,  a  singing  vagabond,  once  played  by  Salvator 
Rosa;  the  swaggering  Spanish  Capitano,  by  name 
Fracasso  or  Matamoras,  a  bully  and  poltroon,  like 
the  Miles  Gloriosus  of  Plautus;  Tartaglia,  the  stam- 
merer; and  Scaramuccia,  a  black,  cowardly  boaster, 
best  known  to  us  through  the  superb  art  of  Tiberio 
Fiorelli,  the  great  Scaramouche,  who  was  Moliere's 
reputed  master  in  the  art  of  grimace.  The  southern 
colleagues  of  Pulcinella  are  almost  countless,  while 
Rome  and  the  hill  towns,  too,  had  their  citizens  in 
burlesque  on  the  stage.  In  truth,  these  masks  are  be- 
wildering in  their  multiplicity.  Kaleidoscopic  Bu- 
rattino  came  from  everywhere  and  nowhere,  and  was 
both  harlequin  and  clown;  Spavento,  Coccodrillo, 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY        109 

Escarabombardon,  Rinoceronte,  and  Spezzaferro 
were  swaggering  Spanish  bullies  of  the  type  of  Mata- 
moras  and  Fracasso;  Trivellino,  Fritellino,  and 
Formica  (the  creation  of  Salvator  Rosa)  fiddled  or 
sang  like  Coviello,  while  Pasquariello  danced;  Truf- 
faldino  was  a  rascally  Arlecchino;  Bertrame  and 
Meneghino  were  both  Milanese;  Stenterello  was  a 
Tuscan ;  Sendron  a  Modenese, — and  so  many  laugh- 
ing, tumbling  creatures  with  long  noses  and  slit 
mouths  there  were  who  jested  and  jibed  throughout 
the  sixteenth  and  seventeeth  centuries,  that  a  volume 
would  scarcely  suffice  for  the  recital  of  their  names 
and  antics. 

Colombina,  the  servetta,  or  soubrette,  with  whom 
both  northern  Arlecchino  and  southern  Pulcinella 
had  their  love-affairs,  played  a  captivating  part  in  the 
Improvised  Comedy  as  well  as  in  Goldoni's  plays. 
She,  too,  had  many  names — Rosetta,  Marinetta,  Cor- 
allina,  Diamantina,  Smeraldina,  Carmosina,  etc. 
Far  more  alert  than  the  fairy-like  Columbine  who 
pirouettes  in  the  Christmas  pantomime,  she  is  ever  a 
saucy,  adroit  young  person — the  type  after  which 
Moliere  modelled  his  pert  serving-maids,  and  Beau- 
marchais  his  Suzanne.  Colombina's  rival  is  the  older 
Pasquella,  generally  a  widow,  of  more  experience 
and  less  virtue,  with  whom  she  quarrels  and  makes 
peace  in  turn. 

Of  the  lovers'  roles  in  the  Improvised  Comedy  lit- 
tle need  be  said.    They  spoke  Tuscan  and  improvised  v 
little  or  not  at  all;  together  with  most  of  their  love 


i  io  GOLDONI 

affairs,  they  were  borrowed  from  the  Erudite  Com- 
edy, their  names  being  pseudo-classical:  Flaminia, 
Giacinta,  Ortensia,  Beatrice,  and  Rosaura  for  the 
women;  Leandro,  Lelio,  Orazio,  Ottavio,  and  Flo- 
rindo  for  the  men.  Most  of  them  spooned  in  Gol- 
doni's  comedies,  many  in  Moliere's  as  well.  But  the 
characters  with  whom  the  student  of  Goldoni  is  most 
concerned  are  the  four  northern  masks — Pantalone, 
II  Dottore,  Arlecchino,  and  Brighella — each  of 
whom  became  enrolled  in  his  earlier  comedies,  and 
helped  to  mould  his  naturalistic  style. 

Although  the  characteristics  of  the  masks  are  dis- 
tinctly drawn,  their  origin  is  as  obscure  as  the  time 
when  the  buffoons  began  to  hide  their  features  from 
the  public  is  uncertain.  To  Angelo  Beolco,  an  actor 
and  playwright  of  the  early  sixteenth  century,  whom 
Vernon  Lee — inspired  by  Maurice  Sand — acclaims 
"the  first  man  who  gave  the  Commedia  dell'  arte  a 
separate  and  honourable  position,"  as  well  as  the  first 
"to  mourn  the  misery  of  Italy,"  16  has  been  given  the 
doubtful  honour  of  introducing  masks,  he  having 
been  said  to  have  devised  their  use  as  a  means  to  hide 
the  identity  of  himself  and  his  well-born  comrades 
as  they  wandered  from  hamlet  to  hamlet,  playing  his 
comedies  through  disinterested  love  for  Thalia.  Yet 
as  early  as  1518,  when  Beolco  was  in  his  teens,  a 
writer  named  Pontano  17  describes  an  al  fresco  en- 
tertainment by  masked  actors.  Certainly,  during 

16  Studies  In  the  Eighteenth  Century  In  Italy. 

17  Quoted  by  Dr.  Winifred  Smith,  op.  cit. 


C/5 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY        in 

Beolco's  lifetime  the  Improvised  Comedy  flourished 
in  all  its  essentials,  a  fact  made  manifest  by  a  spirited 
song  of  Zannis  and  Magnificos,  which  was  composed 
before  1559,  when  it  appeared  in  print.18  Here,  as 
will  be  seen  by  the  following  translation  of  three  of  its 
stanzas,  not  only  Pantalone,  the  staid  Venetian,  is 
mentioned,  but  the  Bergamask,  the  zanies,  and 
women, — a  proof  that  when  this  song  was  written,  the 
masks  had  been  developed  and  actresses  were  upon 
the  stage  of  the  Improvised  Comedy,  which  was  no 
longer  set  up  in  the  market  place,  but  in  a  stanza  or 
hall. 

As  up  and  down  the  land  we  stroll, 
We  play  the  staid  Venetian  s  role, 
The  Bergamask }  the  Zanies'  part: 
For  acting  farces  is  our  art! 
We  're  great  reciters,  all  of  us, 
Both  excellent  and  glorious. 

The  other  worthy  player-bards 

Stay  at  the  hall  to  act  as  guards, — 

The  lovers,  women,  hermits,  knights. 

We  Ve  outlined  plays  that  are  delights, 

So  witty,  jolly,  pretty,  bright, 

You  '11  die  of  laughing  on  the  night ! 

And  then  we  wish  to  show  to  you 
A  lovely  scene,  well-made  and  new 
Where  Cantinella's  merry  voice 
With  all  the  Zanies  will  rejoice 

18  Canto  di  Zanni  e  Magnifichi,  by  Anton  Francesco  Grazzini,  called  II 
Lasca,  in  De'  tutti  Trionfi,  earn,  mascherite  o  canti  carnascialeschi  del 
tempo  di  Lorenzo  de'  Medici  a  questo  anno  1559. 


ii2  GOLDONI 

To  give  you  pleasure;  if  awhile 
You  would  unduly  laugh  and  smile, 
To-morrow  come  ye,  one  and  all, 
To  see  the  show  and  fill  the  hall ! 

Rome  had  its  Erudite  Comedy — fabula  palllata 
and  fabula  togata — the  one  foreign,  the  other  na- 
tive; and  also  its  improvised  comedy — the  Mimes 
from  Greece,  the  Atellanae  of  the  soil.  Cer- 
tain characters,  too,  of  Roman  comedy,  both  writ- 
ten and  extemporized,  resemble  vaguely  the  masks 
of  the  Renaissance;  hence,  it  is  easy  to  be  carried 
away,  like  Riccoboni,  Maurice  Sand,  and  Ver- 
non  Lee,  with  the  feeling  that  Improvised  Com- 
edy has  "existed  in  rudiment  ever  since  the  earliest 
days  of  Latin,  Oscan,  and  Italo-Greek  civilization." 
Dr.  Winifred  Smith,  however,  comes  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  "even  admitting  the  unproved  hypothesis, 
that  the  Atellanae  were  farces  marked  by  improvisa- 
tion and  masked  personages,  it  would  be  impossible 
to  establish  between  them  and  the  Italian  extempore 
plays  a  connection  worthy  the  name."  Giulio  Cap- 
rin,19  a  modern  Italian  authority,  also  scouts  the  idea 
that  the  masks  of  the  Renaissance  are  directly  de- 
scended from  the  buffoons  of  Roman  comedy,  a  view 
with  which  Symonds  accords,20  when  he  states  that 
"nothing  could  be  more  uncritical  than  to  assume 
that  the  Italian  masks  of  the  sixteenth  century  A.  D. 
boasted  of  an  uninterrupted  descent  from  the  Roman 

19  Carlo  Goldoni:  la  sua  vita — le  sue  opere. 

20  Introduction  to  The  Memoirs  of  Count  Carlo  Gozzi. 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY        113 

masks  of  the  fifth  century  B.  c.,"  his  assumption  being 
that 


Out  of  the  same  persistent  habits  emerged  the  same  kind  of 
native  drama;  and  just  as  the  Atellanae  of  ancient  Rome  event- 
ually brought  the  comedy  of  the  proletariat  upon  the  public  stage 
in  cities,  so  at  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century  the  Commedia  dell' 
arte  worked  up  the  rudiments  of  popular  farce  into  a  new  form 
which  delighted  Europe  for  two  hundred  years. 

This  being  the  modern  critical  view  regarding  the 
suggested  Roman  origin  of  the  Improvised  Comedy, 
it  seems  unnecessary  to  present  here  the  fancied  re- 
semblances of  Maccus  to  Pulcinella,  Bucco  to  Ar- 
lecchino,  Pappus  to  Pantalone,  and  Dossennus  to  II 
Dottore,  or  to  sketch  the  supposed  likeness  between 
the  nimble  and  dull-witted  sanniones  of  Rome  and  the 
zanni  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Nor  is  there  space 
within  the  limits  of  this  chapter  to  discuss  the  hypoth- 
esis that  the  masks  of  the  Improvised  Comedy  are 
descended  either  from  the  comic  personages  of  the 
mystery  plays,  or  from  a  mediaeval  profane  comedy 
that  may  have  existed  side  by  side  with  the  sacred 
representations. 

Although  the  origin  of  the  Improvised  Comedy 
is  shrouded  in  uncertainty,  there  is  no  doubt  that  it 
"delighted  Europe  for  two  hundred  years."  The 
glory  of  the  Renaissance  might  be  on  the  wane,  yet 
Italy  still  taught  art  and  fashion  to  the  rest  of  Europe 
when  this  form  of  comedy  reached  its  full  develop- 
ment. Young  foreigners,  seeking  culture  in  Italian 


1 14  GOLDONI 

courts,  took  to  their  native  lands  such  stories  of 
the  ability  of  the  Italian  mask  actors,  that  many  a 
northern  monarch  sent  to  Italy  for  a  troupe  of  buf- 
foons to  edify  him.  In  Austria,  Bavaria,  and  France, 
Italian  masks  appeared  and  gave  delight  with  their 
spontaneous  merriment,  carrying  by  storm  the  ram- 
parts of  the  native  drama.  In  Spain  and  England 
the  local  forces,  though  hard  pressed,  held  their  own, 
the  drama  of  those  lands  being  too  thoroughly  na- 
tional to  be  stunted  in  its  growth  by  this  foreign  blast. 

Troupes  of  Italians,  it  is  true,  played  at  the  court 
of  Spain,  and  made  scenari  from  Spanish  plays,  the 
stage  receiving  technical  impulses  from  these  adepts 
in  dramatic  construction;  yet  the  Spaniard  of  that 
day  was  too  dire  and  gloomy  to  be  strongly  influenced 
by  Italian  merriment;  therefore,  the  cloak-and-sword 
drama,  true  vehicle  of  national  expression  that  it  be- 
came, ran  little  risk  of  being  influenced  by  the 
sprightly  Gommedia  dell'  arte. 

In  England,  Italian  actors  played  probably  as  early 
as  1572,  certainly  in  1577,  when  Drusiano  Martinelli 
was  granted  a  license  to  appear  in  London.  Thomas 
Heywood  (1612)  speaks  of  "doctors,  zawnyes,  pan- 
taloons, and  harlakenes."  Shakespeare,  too,  denotes 
the  sixth  age  of  man  by  "the  lean  and  slipper' d  panta- 
loon." Captain  Fracasso  is  manifestly  the  inspira- 
tion of  Udall's  Ralph  Roister  Doister,  and  Ben 
Jonson's  Captain  Bobadil,  and  in  the  four-scene  plats, 
or  scenari,  discovered  about  a  century  ago  among  the 
papers  of  Henslowe,  the  manager,  and  his  son-in-law, 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY        115 

the  wealthy  actor  Alleyn,  there  is  evidence  that  the 
professional  methods  of  the  Italian  mask  actors  were 
known  to  the  English  stage  even  before  Shakespeare 
penned  his  first  play;  therefore,  it  is  not  surprising  to 
find  the  action  of  his  pieces  interrupted  by  the  lazzi  of 
clowns,  doltish  as  Arlecchino  or  knavish  as  Brighella. 
It  is  unlikely,  however,  as  Dr.  Winifred  Smith  points 
out,21  that  the  English  actor  ever  learned  to  im- 
provise from  a  scenario.  Many  plots,  certain  struc- 
tural features,  and  also  its  means  of  expression — 
prose  for  comedy  and  blank  verse  for  tragedy — the 
Elizabethan  drama  undoubtedly  owed  to  the  Italian 
stage;  yet,  that  was  not  the  entire  debt,  for  it  owed  as 
well,  to  quote  Dr.  J.  W.  Cunliffe,22  "in  tragedy  re- 
straint and  dignity;  in  comedy  graceful  and  sprightly 
satire  of  contemporary  life." 

In  France  the  debt  was  far  greater.  As  early  as 
1548,  Italian  actors  began  to  invade  that  land,  and 
when  in  1571  the  Gelosi™  made  their  first  pilgrim- 
age beyond  the  Alps,  the  French  saw  extemporized 
comedy  interpreted  by  adepts.  Henceforth,  except 
during  the  nineteen  years  when  the  Hotel  de  Bour- 
gogne  was  closed  by  Louis  XIV  (1697-1716),  the 

21  Italian  and  Elizabethan  Comedy. 

22  The  Influence  of  Italian  on  Early  Elizabethan  Drama. 

23  A  famous  troupe  of  Italian  mask  actors,  which  made  several  trips 
to  France  between   1571    and   1604.    The  personnel   changed  from  time 
to  time,  Flaminio  Scala  being  reputed  to  have  been  its  director  for  sev- 
eral years.     Among  its  most  noted  histrions  were  wanton  Vittoria  Piis- 
simi,   its  first  leading  lady,  Simone  Bolognese  and  Panzanini  Gabriele, 
the  zanni,  Francesco  Andreini,  both  innamorato  and  Capitano,  and  Isa- 
bella Andreini,  the  latter's  wife,  noted  for  her  talent,  beauty,  erudition 
and  exemplary  conduct. 


n6  GOLDONI 

Italian  masked  buffoons  reigned  merrily  in  France, 
until  they  were  deprived  of  their  theatre  during 
Goldoni's  old  age  ( 1779) ,  and  forced  to  become  mute 
pantomimists  in  order  that  the  rights  of  the  Comedie 
Frangaise  and  the  Opera  might  be  protected.  Two 
hundred  years  had  elapsed  since  the  advent  of  the 
Gelosi,  and  during  that  time  the  Improvised  Comedy 
of  Italy  had  taken  so  strong  a  hold  upon  French  pop- 
ular taste  that  not  a  single  French  writer  of  comedy 
had  been  wholly  free  from  its  influence.  Moliere 
made  liberal  use  of  Italian  material,  mask  buffoonery 
being  his  inspiration.  By  adding  his  own  masterful 
characterization  and  atmosphere  to  plots  taken  from 
all  lands,  he  created  French  comedy,  but  to  Italy  he 
was  indebted  for  his  comic  characters,  for  the  love 
intrigues  of  his  witching  coquettes  and  pert  sou- 
brettes,  and  above  all  for  his  spirited  stage-craft. 

Yet,  much  as  the  modern  drama  owes  to  the  Impro- 
vised Comedy,  that  unique  form  of  stage  merriment 
had  several  serious  defects.  Instead  of  the  old  plots 
used  to-day  with  new  characters  to  carry  them,  Ital- 
ian audiences  were  once  regaled  with  the  same  charac- 
ters fitted  to  stories  so  manifold  that  Carlo  Gozzi, 
GoldonPs  bitter  rival,  estimated  the  number  of  dra- 
matic situations  used  in  improvised  comedy  at  be- 
tween three  and  four  hundred.  The  characters  were 
not  only  fixed,  but  personal  as  well,  an  actor  once 
playing  Arlecchino,  Pantalone,  or  Pulcinella  remain- 
ing in  the  same  part  throughout  his  life,  and  often 
giving  such  an  individualized  touch  to  it,  that  he  be- 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY        117 

came  known  solely  by  its  name,  as  in  the  case  of  Tib- 
erio  Fiorelli,  the  great  Scaramouche.  Aside  from  the 
facility  with  which  an  actor  might  vulgarize  an  im- 
provised comedy,  the  vital  defect  of  this  dramatic 
form  lay  in  the  use  of  masks,  and  in  its  tendency  to 
become  stereotyped.  The  masks  prevented  facial 
play,  and  too  often  the  buffoons'  lazzi  were  but  repe- 
titions of  jokes  already  stale,  while  the  love-making 
of  the  primo  amoroso  was  wont  to  be  drawn  entirely 
from  his  zibaldone.  So  long  as  the  mask  actors  re- 
mained idealists,  their  scenic  parody  of  life  was  un- 
equalled in  spontaneity;  yet  during  their  decadence 
the  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  between  which  they  seldom 
sailed  unscathed,  were  lewdness  and  monotony. 

Goldoni  realized  these  evils  thoroughly.  In  speak- 
ing of  the  stage  in  his  day  and  of  the  improvement 
that  had  come  to  literature  since  the  preceding  cen- 
tury, he  laments  the  fact  that  "the  last  to  yield  to  a 
better  system  were  the  actors."  "Being  suckled  with 
bad  milk,"  he  continues,  "they  were  incapable  on 
their  own  volition  of  mending  their  ways" ;  and  to  his 
mind  there  was  nothing  on  the  stage  but  "indecent 
harlequinades,  foul  and  scandalous  intrigues,  lewd 
jests,  immodest  loves."  24  In  The  Comic  Theatre  (II 
Teatro  comico) ,  a  play  he  wrote  to  uphold  his  dra- 
matic methods  against  the  attacks  of  his  enemies,  he 
makes  a  character  say:  "The  public  is  tired  of  al- 
ways seeing  the  same  things,  of  always  hearing  the 
same  words — the  moment  Arlecchino  opens  his 

24  Prefaces  to  the  Pasquali  edition  of  Goldoni's  comedies. 


n8  GOLDONI 

mouth,  you  know  what  he  is  going  to  say."  Indeed 
he  was  alive  not  only  to  the  vulgarity  and  monotony 
of  the  Improvised  Comedy,  but  also  to  the  factitious- 
ness  created  by  the  use  of  masks,  an  inartistic  conven- 
tion he  thus  decries  : 

The  mask  must  always  be  very  prejudicial  to  the  action  of  the 
performer,  either  in  joy  or  sorrow;  whether  he  be  in  love,  cross,  or 
good-humoured,  the  same  features  are  always  exhibited;  and  how- 
ever he  may  gesticulate  and  vary  the  tone,  he  can  never  convey  by 
the  countenance,  which  is  the  interpreter  of  the  heart,  the  different 
passions  with  which  he  is  inwardly  agitated. 

Though  the  evils  of  the  Improvised  Comedy  are 
many,  its  virtues  are  world-wide  in  their  influence. 
To  Moliere,  the  first  distinctly  modern  dramatist,  it 
taught  dramatic  technic.  To  Goldoni  it  furnished 
the  stage-craft  that  makes  his  comedies  move  so  easily 
and  naturally.  From  its  elements  the  Frenchman 
created  the  modern  drama,  and  from  them  too,  the 
Italian  built  a  new  and  thoroughly  national  written 
comedy  with  characters  drawn  from  the  life  of  his 
people — the  proletariat,  as  well  as  the  aristocracy  and 
the  bourgeoisie.  Thus  Goldoni's  inspiration,  like 
Moliere's,  was  the  unwritten,  democratic  comedy  of 
Italy,  spontaneous  in  dialogue  and  flexible  in  con- 
struction, a  comedy  shaped  by  the  practical  expe- 
rience of  professional  actors,  unhampered  by  didactic 
rules,  and  therefore  so  vital  that  it  still  influences  the 
drama,  the  task  of  the  playwright  of  the  present  day 
being  to  construct  his  scenario  after  the  manner  of  the 
Improvised  Comedy,  then  revivify  in  dialogue  Pan- 


THE  IMPROVISED  COMEDY        119 

talone,  II  Dottore,  Arlecchino,  Brighella,  il  primo 
amoroso,  la  signora,  and  la  servetta.  This  done,  their 
roles  are  allotted  to  the  first  old  man,  the  second  old 
man,  the  first  low  comedian,  the  second  low  comedian, 
the  leading  man,  the  leading  lady,  and  the  soubrette. 
II  Capitano  or  Scaramuccia  is  played  by  the  modern 
villain,  Pasquella  by  the  first  old  woman,  Ottavio  or 
Silvio  by  the  juvenile,  and  the  simpering  role  of 
Flaminia,  Bettina,  Clarice,  or  Isabella  by  the  mod- 
ern ingenue.  Thus  closely  is  the  drama  of  the  pres- 
ent day  related  in  construction  to  the  Improvised 
Comedy  of  Italy,  an  inexhaustible  grab  bag  from 
which  our  playwrights  consciously  or  unconsciously 
draw  their  material,  just  as  those  of  the  Renaissance 
drew  from  Plautus  and  Terence,  and  they  from  Me- 
nander  the  Greek. 


G 


IV 

THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY 

OLDONI'S  naturalistic  comedy  was  created 
from  the  lewd  dust  of  the  Improvised 
Comedy  of  his  day;  yet  so  slowly  did  he  pur- 
sue his  task  that  his  earlier  efforts  are  simply  come- 
dies of  this  nature,  shorn  of  lubricity,  in  which  the 
love  scenes  only  were  penned,  the  improvisation  of 
the  lazzi  being  left  to  the  ingenuity  of  the  buffoons. 
Don  Juan  Tenorio;  or,  The  Debauchee,  his  first 
lengthy  comedy  is,  it  is  true,  a  five-act  effort  in  verse, 
written  in  imitation  of  Moliere.  This  play,  however, 
is  so  foreign  to  Goldoni's  genius  that,  like  his  trag- 
edies, it  becomes  interesting  mainly  as  an  evidence  of 
how  far  afield  an  artist  may  wander.  Yet  Goldoni 
was  ever  straying  from  the  path  of  his  genius,  his 
work  fairly  covering  the  entire  range  of  the  drama, 
— tragedy,  tragi-comedy,  comedy,  farce,  extrava- 
ganza, opera,  and  opera  bouffe. 

He  is  eminent  only  in  comedy.  Here  he  has  hewn 
a  path  quite  his  own ;  for  although  he  has  been  termed 
erroneously  "the  Italian  Moliere"  his  genius  is  dis- 
tinct from  that  of  the  Frenchman.  His  ambition  was 
both  to  reform  the  Italian  stage  and  "not  to  spoil  na- 
ture" ;  yet,  his  reform  was  brought  about  so  gradually 

120 


THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY  121 

and  he  spoiled  nature  so  frequently  by  straying  away 
from  the  sunlit  streets  of  Venice,  that  to  follow  the 
development  of  his  art  with  chronological  exactness 
becomes  futile.  Not  only  did  he  write  many  kinds 
of  plays  but  many  kinds  of  comedies  as  well.  In 
dramatic  naturalism  lies  his  fame;  for  only  when  he 
paints  the  life  of  his  native  Venice  is  he  eminent. 
Speaking  roughly,  a  hundred  and  fifty  comedies,  a 
hundred  tragedies,  operatic  tragedies,  and  operas 
bourles  form  his  dramatic  product;  yet  to  know  the 
comedies  is  to  know  Goldoni,  his  other  work  being 
interesting  chiefly  as  a  matter  of  endeavour. 

"To  classify  the  vast  mass  of  Carlo  Goldoni's  the- 
atrical works  is  most  difficult,"  says  Ernesto  Masi; 
"writers  and  editors  have  tried  it  many  times,  yet 
there  is  not  a  single  one  of  these  attempts  that  does 
not  open  the  door  to  criticism  both  justifiable  and 
justified."  1  He  wrote  comedies  in  Tuscan  and  com- 
edies wholly  or  partly  in  the  Venetian  dialect, 
comedies  in  prose  and  comedies  in  verse;  some  dealt 
with  the  life  of  Venice,  others  were  exotic  in  sub- 
ject; some  were  comedies  of  character,  others  of 
intrigue;  some  were  serious,  others  light;  some  dealt 
with  fashionable  life,  others  with  the  bourgeoisie  or 
the  proletariat.  At  no  time  in  his  long  career  did 
he  confine  his  work  to  any  particular  style,  his  choice 
of  subject  being  determined  either  by  his  mood  or 
by  theatrical  exigencies.  To  group  his  work  into 
comedies  of  character  or  of  intrigue  in  the  manner 

1  Scelta  di  Commedie  di  Carlo  Goldoni. 


122  GOLDONI 

of  many  writers  does  scant  justice  to  Goldoni,  the 
painter  of  nature.  He  either  depicts  effectively  the 
Venetian  life  he  knows,  or  ineffectively  a  life  he  does 
not  know — the  London  of  Richardson,  the  Paris  of 
Voltaire  and  Diderot,  the  Persia  of  the  Arabian 
Nights. 

As  in  the  case  of  Moliere,  prose  was  the  natural 
medium  of  his  art;  verse  a  form  of  expression  forced 
upon  him  by  the  demands  of  public  taste.  About 
forty  of  his  comedies  are  in  verse ;  five  of  these,  and 
the  best  by  far,  being  in  the  Venetian  dialect.  Al- 
though scarcely  a  tenth  of  the  prose  comedies  are 
penned  in  the  speech  of  Venice,  those  on  which  his 
fame  most  surely  rests  are  written  in  this  idiom; 
while  in  nearly  twoscore  of  the  remainder  the  mask 
characters  speak  in  dialect  after  the  manner  of  the 
Improvised  Comedy.  Indeed  in  almost  every  in- 
stance, the  speech  of  Venice  is  used  either  wholly  or 
in  part  whenever  the  scene  of  the  play  lies  on  native 
soil. 

There  are,  moreover,  three  distinct  periods  in  Gol- 
doni's  dramatic  work,  coetaneous  with  equally  dis- 
tinct periods  of  his  life.  During  his  earlier  years  his 
vagrant  spirit  led  him  into  many  channels  and 
through  many  adventures.  From  1721,  when  he  ran 
away  from  school  at  Rimini  and  travelled  to  his 
home  at  Chioggia  with  a  band  of  strolling  players, 
until  the  autumn  of  1748,  when  he  appeared  in 
Venice  as  the  playwright  of  a  troupe  managed  by 
an  actor  named  Medebac,  he  led  a  fitful  life  as  stu- 


THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY  123 

dent,  diplomatist,  and  lawyer,  a  life  at  once  adven- 
turous and  unsuccessful.  From  1734  until  1743  he 
wrote  plays  for  Imer's  troupe;  yet  during  a  part  of 
this  time  he  was  Genoese  consul  at  Venice;  so  it 
cannot  be  said  that  he  had  adopted  play-writing  as 
his  profession.  It  was  his  avocation  rather  than  his 
vocation;  furthermore  he  abandoned  the  stage  in 
1744  to  practice  law  at  Pisa.  During  this  first  period 
of  his  life  he  wrote  some  thirty  dramatic  pieces: — 
tragedies,  tragi-comedies,  operas,  operatic  interludes, 
operas  bouffes,  written  comedies,  and  improvised 
comedies.  It  was  a  period  of  essay  during  which  he 
was  groping  in  dramatic  darkness,  uncertain  whither 
to  direct  his  steps  and  still  dubious  of  dramatic  writ- 
ing as  a  profession. 

Burning  his  legal  bridges  entirely  in  1747,  by  sign- 
ing a  contract  with  Medebac  for  a  period  of  one 
year,  he  appeared  in  Venice  during  the  following 
year  as  a  professional  dramatist  and,  to  quote  his  own 
words,  "abandoned  himself  without  reflection  to  the 
comic  genius  that  had  lured  him."  Here  begins  the 
second  period  of  his  life  as  well  as  of  his  work.  Dur- 
ing fourteen  years  he  wrote  professionally  for  the 
stage  of  Venice;  his  life,  except  for  quarrels  with 
managers,  actresses  and  critics,  being  joyously  lived 
in  the  tranquillity  of  domestic  peace.  During  that 
happy  time  he  penned  fully  a  hundred  comedies,  and 
about  half  as  many  operas  bouffes.  Graced  by  all 
his  masterpieces  save  one,2  this  was  the  most  prolific 

2  Le  Bourru  bienfaisant,  written  in  French  in   1771. 


i24  GOLDONI 

period  of  his  life  as  well  as  the  period  of  his  greatest 
achievement. 

When  the  indifference  of  the  public  and  the  attacks 
of  rivals  and  critics  drove  him  into  exile  in  Paris  in 
1762,  he  began  again  in  France,  as  the  playwright  of 
Les  Comediens  du  roi  de  la  troupe  italienne,  the  re- 
form of  comedy  he  had  accomplished  in  Italy;  yet  he 
fought  less  valiantly  for  his  ideals.  Though  he 
penned  some  fifty  comedies,  scenari,  and  operas 
bouffes  in  France,  once  only  did  his  genius  shine 
with  its  full  splendour,  and  then  in  a  foreign  tongue. 

These  three  distinct  periods  of  Goldoni's  work  have 
been  kept  in  mind  during  the  writing  of  this  book, 
the  present  chapter  treating  of  the  first,  or  period 
of  essay,  the  chapter  entitled  "Dramatic  Work  in 
France,"  of  the  last,  or  period  of  exile;  while  the 
chapters  called  "Comedies  of  the  Aristocracy," 
"Comedies  of  the  Bourgeoisie,"  "Comedies  in  the 
Venetian  Dialect,"  "Exotic  Comedies"  and  "Come- 
dies in  Verse,"  are  all  concerned  with  the  great  pro- 
lific period  between  his  return  to  Venice  in  1748  and 
his  departure  for  Paris  in  1762.  To  these  rules  of 
selection  an  exception  has  been  made  in  regard  to 
those  comedies  in  which  the  plots  are  taken  wholly 
or  in  part  from  Moliere,  a  chapter  being  devoted  to 
the  plays  in  which  Goldoni  attempted  to  imitate  the 
work  of  his  great  predecessor. 

At  the  time  when  he  began  to  write  for  the  stage 
of  his  day  the  Improvised  Comedy  was  in  its  deca- 
dence. True,  there  were  a  few  skilled  mask  actors 


THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY  125 

such  as  Antonio  Sacchi,  the  harlequin,  and  Cesare 
D'Arbes,  the  pantaloon,  but  they  were  the  exceptions 
rather  than  the  rule,  the  Improvised  Comedy  being 
then  mostly  in  the  hands  of  lewd  jack-puddings.  In 
its  prime  this  stage  parody  of  life,  unexcelled  in 
spontaneity  and  truth  to  nature,  was  allied  to  the  fine 
arts;  in  its  decline  it  became  the  base  medium  of 
anathematized  buffoons  forbidden  by  law  to  enter 
decent  houses.  Even  in  sybaritic  Venice,  a  state  in- 
quisitor of  Goldoni's  time  lashed  the  players  of  Ven- 
ice in  these  scathing  words:  "Remember  that  you 
actors  are  persons  odious  to  our  blessed  Lord,  but 
tolerated  by  the  prince  only  as  a  pasture  for  those 
who  delight  in  your  iniquities."  3  To  this  arraign- 
ment of  the  Improvised  Comedy  of  his  day,  Goldoni 
adds  the  following  testimony: 

Indeed,  the  Comic  Stage  in  our  Italy  had  been  so  corrupt  for 
more  than  a  century  that  for  the  transalpine  nations  it  had  be- 
come an  abominable  object  of  contempt.  There  upon  the  public 
boards  only  unseemly  harlequinades,  foul  and  scandalous  gallant- 
ries and  jests  were  in  vogue.  Stories  poor  in  conception  and 
worse  in  execution,  uncivil  and  ill  ordered,  which  far  from  cor- 
recting vice  as  the  first,  the  ancient  and  most  noble  object  of  comedy, 
only  fomented  it,  and  arousing  the  laughter  of  the  ignorant  plebe- 
ians, dissolute  youths  and  the  most  debauched  of  the  population,  dis- 
gusted, then  irritated  the  educated  and  the  well-bred,  who  if  they 
sometimes  frequented  so  poor  a  theatre  and  were  there  dragged  out 
of  boredom,  took  good  care  not  to  take  with  them  their  innocent 
families,  lest  their  hearts  might  be  corrupted.  ...  Of  late,  however, 
many  have  tried  to  regulate  the  theatre  and  bring  good  taste  back  to 

3  Nicolo  Maria  Tiepolo  (about  1778),  as  quoted  by  P.  G.  Molmenti  in 
his  Carlo  Goldoni,  Studio  critico-biografico. 


i26  GOLDONI 

it.  Some  have  attempted  to  do  so  by  producing  upon  the  stage  come- 
dies translated  from  the  Spanish  and  from  the  French,  but  mere 
translations  could  not  make  a  hit  in  Italy.  National  tastes  differ, 
as  do  customs  and  languages,  and  for  this  reason  our  mercenary 
actors,  feeling  in  their  prejudice  the  force  of  this  truth,  set  about 
altering  them,  and  reciting  them  in  improvisation ;  yet  they  so  dis- 
figured them  that  they  could  no  longer  be  recognized  as  works  of 
such  celebrated  poets  as  Lope  de  Vega  and  Moliere  who  beyond 
the  mountains,  where  better  taste  flourished,  had  happily  composed 
them.  They  have  treated  with  the  same  cruelty  the  comedies  of 
Plautus  and  Terence;  nor  did  they  spare  any  of  the  other  ancient 
or  modern  comedies  that  happened  to  fall  into  their  hands,  or 
which  had  been  born,  or  were  being  born,  in  Italy  itself,  especially 
in  that  most  polished  school  of  Florence.  In  the  meantime  the 
educated  chafed,  the  people  wearied ;  all  exclaimed  in  accord  against 
bad  comedies ;  yet  most  people  had  no  idea  of  good  ones.4 

Such  was  the  lewd  comedy  which  inspired  Gol- 
doni's  naturalistic  comedy  of  Venetian  life,  his  earlier 
farces  like  those  of  Moliere,  who  learned  his  technic 
in  the  same  school,  being  little  more  than  scenari,  in 
which  either  all  or  some  of  the  four  Venetian  masks 
appear.  His  earlier  comedies,  too,  are  frequently 
interrupted  by  lazzif  though  they  are  free  from  vul- 
garity. Gradually  as  his  pen  became  surer  in  touch, 
his  masks  emerged  from  their  buffoonish  chrysalids 
as  fully  developed  characters ;  his  Pantalone,  though 
still  clothed  in  his  red  trousers,  and  often  masked, 
typifying  Venice's  worth,  his  Brighella  and  Arlec- 
chino,  her  light-hearted,  indolent  people,  his  Dottore, 
her  corrupt  bureaucracy  and  bar. 

Goldoni  has  been  accused  of  never  escaping  from 

4  Prefaces   to   Bettinelli    and   Paperini    editions   reprinted    in    Pasquali 
edition,  Vol.  I. 


THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY  127 

the  influence  of  the  Improvised  Comedy;  yet  when 
he  discards  the  masks  and  their  lazzl  entirely  and 
presents  the  life  of  his  beloved  Venice  just  as  it  ap- 
pears to  his  artistic  eyes,  his  work  is  as  free  from  the 
stereotyped  devices  of  the  Improvised  Comedy  as 
is  Moliere's, — as  free  as  Ibsen's,  it  might  almost  be 
said,  for  here  Goldoni  appears  as  a  consummate  nat- 
uralist depicting  actual  life  in  truthful  colours.  Yet 
only  a  few  times  in  his  long  dramatic  career  did  he 
liberate  himself  wholly  from  the  hackneyed  tricks 
of  the  native  comedy,  or  the  stilted  artifice  of  the 
French  comedy  of  his  day.  The  method  of  his  re- 
form was  slowly  to  eliminate  the  masks  by  accustom- 
ing the  public  to  written  comedy  constructed  in  the 
old  style  with  some  or  all  of  the  stereotyped  charac- 
ters, then  to  discard  this  style  and  these  characters 
entirely,  and  present  to  his  countrymen  a  written  com- 
edy along  conventional  French  lines.  Yet  so  little 
did  he  appreciate  his  true  genius  that  his  memoirs 
teem  with  defence  of  these  artificial  comedies,  while 
his  naturalistic  masterpieces  often  receive  scant  men- 
tion. Nevertheless  he  seems  to  have  understood  that 
his  ability  to  reproduce  the  life  about  him  was  the 
source  of  his  immediate  success ;  for  while  he  scolded 
his  countrymen  for  their  inability  to  appreciate  re- 
fined comedy,  he  catered  to  their  taste.  He  had 
moreover  a  definite  purpose  in  view  which  he  ex- 
pressed  in  these  words : 

Now  there  was  within  me  this  selfsame  spirit,  which  making 
me  a   most  attentive  observer  of  the  comedies   that  were  being 


i28  GOLDONI 

performed  in  the  various  theatres  of  Italy,  caused  me  to  recognize 
and  lament  their  corrupted  taste,  while  comprehending  at  the  same 
time  that  the  public  would  derive  no  little  benefit,  and  he  who 
should  succeed,  no  small  praise,  if  some  man  of  talent  inspired  by 
the  comic  spirit  should  attempt  to  uplift  the  abased  Italian  Theatre. 
This  hope  of  glory  finally  enlisted  me  in  the  undertaking.5 

His  memoirs,  written  years  after  this  declaration 
was  penned,  show  the  fidelity  with  which  he  upheld 
the  banner  of  his  reform.  "I  am  now,"  he  said  of 
a  play  produced  shortly  after  he  had  won  his  first 
success  in  Venice,  "perfectly  at  my  ease,  and  I  can 
give  rein  to  my  imagination.  Hitherto  I  have  la- 
boured on  old  subjects,  but  now  I  must  create  and 
invent  for  myself.  This,"  he  added,  "is  perhaps  the 
happy  moment  to  set  on  foot  the  reform  I  have  so 
long  meditated.  Was  I  wrong,"  he  continues,  "in 
encouraging  myself  in  this  manner?  No;  for  com- 
edy was  my  inclination  and  good  comedy  should  be 
my  aim.  Had  I  entertained  the  ambition  of 
equalling  the  masters  of  the  art,  I  should  have  been 
wrong,  but  I  merely  aspired  to  reform  the  abuses 
of  the  stage  of  my  own  country,  and  to  accomplish 
this  required  no  great  amount  of  erudition."  Com- 
edy being  concerned  with  ordinary  life  is  therefore 
likely  to  be  truer  to  life  than  tragedy.  "The  mis- 
fortunes of  the  heroes  of  tragedy  interest  us  at  a 
distance,"  Goldoni  tells  us,  "but  those  of  our  contem- 
poraries are  likely  to  affect  us  more  closely.  Com- 
edy, which  is  an  imitation  of  nature,  ought  not  to 
reject  virtuous  and  pathetic  sentiments,  if  the  essen- 

5  Preface  to  the  Pasquali  edition,  Vol.  I. 


THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY  129 

tial  object  be  observed  of  enlivening  it  with  those 
comic  and  prominent  traits  which  constitute  the  very 
foundation  of  its  existence."  Here  he  has  tersely  ex- 
pressed the  fundamental  principles  of  his  art.  "The 
rule  of  all  rules,"  as  Moliere  wisely  says,  "is  to 
please,"  a  precept  Goldoni  expounds  when  main- 
taining that  "a  comedy  without  interest,  plot,  or  sus- 
pense, in  spite  of  its  beauties  of  detail,  cannot  be 
other  than  a  bad  play.  Yet  I  could  not,"  he  said  at 
another  time,  "reform  the  national  comedy  all  at  once 
without  shocking  its  admirers:  therefore  I  awaited 
a  favourable  moment  for  commencing  a  frontal  at- 
tack upon  it  with  more  strength  and  safety." 

The  moment  for  that  attack  came  in  1747  when 
he  "abandoned  himself  without  reflection  to  the  comic 
genius  that  had  lured  him."  Thereafter,  until 
driven  into  exile  by  the  neglect  of  his  fellow  country- 
men, he  fought  valiantly  in  defence  of  an  art,  the 
theory  of  which  he  thus  elucidates  in  The  Comic 
Theatre,  a  polemic  rather  than  a  play,  written  as  a 
prologue  to  his  dramatic  work  in  Venice: 

Comedy  was  invented  to  correct  foibles  and  ridicule  disagree-  \ 
able  habits;  when  the  comedy  of  the  ancients  was  written  in  this 
wise,  the  whole  world  liked  it,  for  on  seeing  a  facsimile  of  a  char- 
acter upon  the  boards,  everybody  saw  the  original  either  in  him- 
self or  in  some  one  else.  When  comedy  became  merely  ridiculous, 
nobody  paid  further  attention  to  it,  since  under  the  pretext  of  caus- 
ing laughter,  the  most  high-sounding  absurdities  were  permitted. 
Now  that  we  are  again  fishing  comedies  out  of  the  Mare  magnum 
of  nature,  men  find  themselves  again  searching  their  hearts  and 
identifying  themselves  with  the  passion  or  the  character  which  is 


130  GOLDONI 

being  represented,  for  they  know  how  to  discern  whether  a  passion 
is  well  depicted,  whether  a  character  is  well  sustained:  in  short, 
they  observe.  .  .  . 

The  French  have  triumphed  in  the  art  of  comedy  during  a 
whole  century;  it  is  now  time  for  Italy  to  proclaim  that  in  her  the 
seed  of  good  authorship  is  not  dried  up,  Italian  authors  having 
been,  after  the  Greeks  and  the  Romans,  the  first  to  enrich  and 
adorn  the  stage.  The  French  in  their  comedies,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted, present  fine  and  well-sustained  characters;  moreover,  they 
delineate  passions  well,  and  their  conceptions  are  acute,  witty,  and 
brilliant,  but  the  public  of  that  country  is  satisfied  with  a  little. 
One  single  character  is  sufficient  to  maintain  a  French  comedy. 
Around  a  single  passion  well  conceived  and  drawn,  a  great  number 
of  speeches  vibrate  which  by  dint  of  elocution  present  the  air  of 
novelty.  We  Italians  demand  much  more.  We  wish  the  princi- 
pal character  to  be  strong,  original,  and  well  recognized  .  .  .  that 
the  plot  shall  be  fertile  in  incidents  and  novelties.  We  demand 
morals  mingled  with  quips  and  humour.  We  insist  that  the  end 
be  unexpected,  but  plainly  derived  from  the  trend  of  the  action. 
We  like  to  have  an  infinity  of  things,  too  many  to  relate  here,  and 
it  is  only  in  the  course  of  time  that  we  can  succeed  in  learning  by 
practice  and  usage  to  know  them  and  to  obtain  success  with  them. 

Although  he  was  opposed  to  "flattering  the  actors 
who  were  so  fond  of  their  old  ways,"  Goldoni,  never- 
theless, recognized  that  the  Improvised  Comedy 
permitted  them  "to  distinguish  themselves  by  the 
promptness  of  their  wits,  from  players  of  all  other  na- 
tions," 6  and  he  was  too  alive  to  the  exigencies  of  the 
stage  to  attempt  the  sudden  undoing  of  that  com- 
edy. Indeed  he  was  a  commercial  dramatist  in  the 
modern  sense,  writing  to  fill  a  theatre,  yet  never  en- 
tirely forsaking  his  ideals.  Still,  he  often  failed  to 
realize  that  his  most  popular  plays  were  likewise  his 

6  Preface  to  Pasquali  edition,  Vol.  III. 


THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY  131 

best.  Knowing  the  worth  of  real  comedy,  but  en- 
ticed by  the  literary  glitter  of  contemporary  France 
toward  false  comedy  as  a  thing  to  be  emulated  for 
its  refinement,  he  returned  to  real  comedy  only  when 
spurred  on  by  the  man  in  the  box-office.  "But  it  was 
time  to  leave  this  kind  of  sentimental  play,"  he  ex- 
claims after  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  naturalize 
artificial  French  comedy,  "and  return  to  characters 
and  real  comedy,  the  more  so  as  we  were  nearing  the 
end  of  the  carnival,  when  it  was  necessary  to  enliven 
the  entertainment  and  put  it  within  reach  of  every- 
one." Whenever  he  was  obliged  to  do  this,  he  pre- 
sented one  of  his  naturalistic  pictures  of  Venetian 
life;  as  is  often  the  case,  while  doing  his  best  work 
he  usually  wrote  at  fever  heat.  "How  many  come- 
dies have  I  precipitated  in  six  or  seven  days  1"  he  ex- 
claims. "How  often  have  I,  when  harassed  by  time, 
given  the  first  act  for  rehearsal  and  without  seeing 
it  again,  written  the  second,  and  likewise  the  third!" 
This  he  was  able  to  do  through  his  thorough  mastery 
of  stage-craft,  which  he  elucidates  as  follows: 

Time,  experience,  and  habit  had  so  familiarized  me  with  the  art 
of  comedy,  that  after  inventing  the  subjects  and  selecting  the  char- 
acters, for  me  all  the  rest  was  mere  routine.  Formerly  I  went 
through  four  processes  before  finishing  the  composition  and  cor- 
rection of  a  play. 

First  process:  the  plan,  with  the  division  into  three  principal 
parts,  the  exposition,  the  intrigue,  and  denouement. 

Second  process:  the  division  of  the  action  into  acts  and  scenes. 

Third :  the  dialogue  of  the  more  interesting  scenes. 

Fourth:  the  general  dialogue  of  the  entire  play. 


I32  GOLDONI 

It  frequently  happened  that  during  this  last  process  I  changed  all 
that  I  had  done  in  my  second  and  third ;  for  ideas  succeed  one  an- 
other; one  scene  produces  another,  one  chance  expression  furnishes 
a  new  thought.  After  a  while  I  was  able  to  reduce  the  four  pro- 
cesses to  a  single  one.  Having  the  plan  and  three  divisions  in  my 
head,  I  would  begin  at  once  with  Act  One,  Scene  One,  and  would 
go  straight  on  to  the  end,  with  the  maxim  always  in  view,  that  all 
the  lines  ought  to  terminate  in  the  denouement,  which  is  the  princi- 
pal thing,  it  seems,  and  for  which  all  the  machinery  is  arranged. 

Although  he  had  written  a  comedy  when  a  child 
and  had  at  the  age  of  twelve  played  a  female  role  in 
a  performance  given  at  Perugia,  his  dramatic  educa- 
tion really  began  at  Rimini  in  1720,  where,  instead 
of  studying  logic  under  the  Dominican  father  Can- 
dini,  he  read  Plautus,  Terence,  Aristophanes,  and  the 
fragments  of  Menander.  After  fleeing  from  Can- 
dini's  scholastic  boredom,  he  received  his  first  prac- 
tical knowledge  of  the  stage  while  journeying  by 
boat  to  Chioggia  in  company  with  Florindo  and  his 
strolling  players.  The  inspiration  given  him  by  a 
study  of  the  classic  dramatists  was  crystallized  into 
a  distinct  ambition  in  Pavia,  when  at  the  age  of  fif- 
teen, he  made  the  discovery  in  the  library  of  Pro- 
fessor Lauzio  that  although  there  was  an  English, 
Spanish,  and  French  drama,  there  was  no  Italian 
drama.  Seeing  with  pain  that  athe  nation  which 
was  acquainted  with  dramatic  art  before  every  other 
nation,  lacked  something  essential,"  he  resolved,  that 
day,  "to  do  his  share";  yet,  he  was  no  deep  student 
of  the  classics,  the  books  which  he  "reflected  upon 
most"  and  which  he  "never  regretted  having  used" 


THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY  133 

being  "The  World  and  The  Stage."  7  Surely  experi- 
ence is  a  better  training  for  a  dramatist  than  erudition. 

Throughout  his  long  life  the  fire  of  the  ambition 
lighted  at  Pavia  was  never  quenched,  while  that 
youthful  resolution  to  do  his  share  was  fully  sus- 
tained, no  other  Italian  having  done  so  much  toward 
raising  his  country  to  the  dramatic  level  of  other  na- 
tions. Though  he  found  no  collection  of  plays  in 
Professor  Lauzio's  library  "which  could  do  honour 
to  Italy,"  at  Chioggia  during  the  following  summer 
he  was,  as  has  been  seen  in  a  preceding  chapter,  in- 
advertently given  by  a  worthy  canon,  Machiavelli's 
Mandrake,  a  comedy  which  he  "devoured  at  the  first 
reading  and  perused  at  least  ten  times  thereafter"; 
though  it  was  not  "the  wanton  style"  nor  "the  scan- 
dalous intrigue  of  the  piece"  which  made  him  ad- 
mire it,  but  rather  the  fact  that  it  was  the  first  comedy 
of  character  which  had  ever  fallen  into  his  hands. 
Cicognini 8  is  another  Italian  author  of  comedy  whom 
he  read  and  re-read,  "a  Florentine  author  very  little 
known,"  as  he  says,  "in  the  republic  of  letters,"  yet 
exceedingly  interesting  withal  "because  of  the  art 
with  which  he  created  suspense  and  pleasingly  untied 
his  knots." 

Thus  inspired,  Goldoni  set  himself  assiduously  to 
the  task  of  reforming  the  Italian  stage,  his  object  be- 

7  Prefaces   to  the   editions   of    1750   and    1753,   reprinted   in   Pasquali 
edition. 

8  There  were  two  dramatists  named  Cicognini,  who  were  father  and 
son:  lacopo  (1577-1633)  and  Giacinto  Andrea  (1606-1660)  ;  but,  as  Guido 
Mazzoni  points  out,  it  is  manifestly  the  younger  to  whom  Goldoni  refers, 
he  being  a  writer  of  many  comedies. 


i34  GOLDONI 


ing  to  ennoble  the  Improvised  Comedy  by  purifying 
its  morality  and  by  creating  from  its  elements  a  na- 
tional written  comedy.  After  he  began  to  write  for 
the  stage  he  groped  in  dramatic  darkness  for  fully 
twelve  years  before  becoming  convinced  that  comedy 
was  his  bent.  His  studies  of  Menander,  Plautus, 
Terence,  Machiavelli,  and  Cicognini  should  have 
turned  his  steps  thither;  yet  like  Moliere  at  the  outset 
of  his  career  he  was  a  votary  of  Melpomene.  At 
the  age  of  twenty-five  he  bowed,  as  has  been  seen,  to 
the  influence  of  Metastasio  by  writing  Amalasontha, 
a  tragedy  for  music,  which  was  condemned  by  the 
director  of  the  opera  at  Milan,  and  burnt  by 
Goldoni  without  a  pang  of  regret.  Though  an  ac- 
quaintance to  whom  he  had  read  it  before  it  was 
committed  to  the  flames  told  him  "to  be  constant  to 
comedy,"  he  did  not  accept  this  advice  unreservedly 
until  years  of  experience  had  taught  him  its  value. 
In  the  meantime  his  youthful  pen  brought  forth  trag- 
edies, tragi-comedies,  and  interludes,  the  first  of  his 
efforts  to  be  performed  professionally  being  The 
Venetian  Gondolier  (II  Gondollere  veneziano),  the 
musical  interlude  penned  at  Milan  during  the  sum- 
mer of  1733  f°r  tne  troupe  of  The  Anonymous,  and 
which,  although  written  to  be  sung,  Goldoni  calls 
"the  first  of  his  comedy  efforts  to  appear  in  public  and 
afterward  in  print." 

This  interlude  is  a  charming  little  sketch  of  a  lov- 
ers' quarrel  written  in  quaint  dialect  stanzas,  the  two 
characters  that  sustain  it  being  thoroughly  natural 


THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY  135 

persons :  moreover  they  are  Venetian  and  of  the  peo- 
ple, while  their  love  is  a  human  passion  with  none 
of  the  artificial  delicacy  common  to  the  French  com- 
edy of  that  day.  The  language,  too,  though  in  verse, 
is  the  language  of  the  streets ;  therefore  in  this  trifle, 
Goldoni  sounded  clearly  though  faintly  the  first  note 
of  his  dramatic  naturalism. 

In  1734,  his  tragi-comedy  Belisarius,  present- 
ing as  its  hero  the  Emperor  Justinian's  famous  gen- 
eral, was  produced  so  successfully  in  Venice  that  it 
ran  for  nearly  a  month.  This  play,  written  in  the 
midst  of  war's  alarums,  and  saved  from  the  thieving 
deserters  who  despoiled  its  author  during  the  cam- 
paign, in  1734,  is  as  good  as  any  of  Goldoni's  trag- 
edies and  tragi-comedies,  yet  the  reader  of  the  pres- 
ent day  who  wades  through  its  pomposity  will  merely 
yawn,  wondering  how  a  genius  so  true  could  have 
penned  a  work  so  false.  No  imagery  adorns  its  tire- 
some lines;  no  philosophy,  no  truth.  Goldoni  says 
that  its  characters  were  men  and  not  demigods :  they 
are  certainly  very  dull  men  speaking  dull  versified 
prose,  and  the  wonder  is  that  the  play  was  applauded. 
It  was  written  in  the  traditional  stilted  manner  of  the 
neo-classics,  though  perhaps  its  success  was  due  to 
its  novelty,  it  being  the  first  play,  according  to  Pro- 
fessor Ortolani,10  without  masks  or  without  music 
produced  in  Italy  since  Maffei's  Merope  (1714),  a 
tragedy  also  written  to  elevate  the  stage,  MafTei  be- 
ing, like  Goldoni,  a  reformer.  MafTei's  efforts  were 

10  Delia  Vita  e  dell'  arte  di  Carlo  Goldoni. 


136  GOLDONI 

futile,  however,  and  so  were  Goldoni's  so  long  as  he 
persisted  in  writing  pompous  tragedies  and  tragi- 
comedies, the  titles  of  the  plays  of  this  character  he 
penned  during  this  period  of  essay  being  sufficient 
to  indicate  their  turgid  qualities.11  Speaking  of 
Belisarius  Goldoni  says  that  "it  was  not  worth  the 
price  at  which  it  had  been  valued,"  and  the  same 
may  be  said  of  his  other  lugubrious  plays  written 
when  he  was  seeking  fame  without  knowing  where  her 
proud* temple  stood. 

To  find  a  young  dramatist  inspired  by  neo-classi- 
cism  at  a  time  when  Metastasio  was  in  vogue  is  not 
surprising.  The  Racine  of  Italy,  as  Goldoni  calls 
this  lyric  dramatist,  knew  Horace  by  heart;  yet  he 
is  said  never  to  have  begun  writing  without  first  read- 
ing a  few  pages  of  Guarini's  Pastor  Fldo;  so,  al- 
though he  occasionally  attained  to  the  Roman's  ex- 
quisite elegance,  his  style  was  more  often  tainted  with 
the  tasteless  elegance  of  the  later  Renaissance, 
Apostolo  Zeno,  whom  Goldoni  likens  to  Corneille, 
although  the  first  to  dignify  melodrama — or  grand 
opera,  as  we  now  call  this  dramatic  form,  the  word 
melodrama  having  been  perverted  from  the  original 
meaning — has  been  styled  a  lesser  Metastasio.  With 
equal  justice  Goldoni,  the  youthful  imitator  of  both 
these  writers,  may  be  called  a  lesser  Zeno  as  far  as 
concerns  his  melodramas. 

To  rewrite  Griselda,  a  musical  tragi-comedy  Zeno 
had  himself  written  in  collaboration  with  Pietro 

11  Rosmonda,  Rinaldo  dt  Montalbano,  Enrico  di  Sicilia,  and  Griselda. 


THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY  137 

Pariati,  was  his  first  operatic  effort.  This  was  fol- 
lowed by  four  melodramas 12  written  in  the  style 
Zeno  and  Metastasio  had  popularized.  As  in  the 
case  of  the  tragedies,  to  detail  their  turgid  stories 
here  would  merely  weary  the  reader,  they,  too,  being 
interesting  mainly  as  evidence  of  how  far  Goldoni 
strayed  during  his  earlier  years  of  dramatic  writing 
from  the  road  the  Muses  intended  him  to  follow. 
Years  after  when  he  had  travelled  a  considerable  dis- 
tance upon  that  road,  he  edited  a  subscription  edition 
of  his  plays.13  Realizing  how  futile  had  been  his 
youthful  attempts  to  write  serious  plays,  he  did  not 
include  therein  a  single  classical  tragedy,  or  tragi- 
comedy. 

Another  style  of  musical  play,  to  the  penning  of 
which  he  frequently  devoted  himself  throughout  his 
long  life,  he  called  "merry  plays  for  music" 
(drammi  giocosi  per  musica) ,  these  being  a  versified 
form  of  musical  comedy  akin  in  both  to  opera  bouffe 
and  to  French  vaudeville.  Of  these  merry  plays  he 
wrote  some  fifty  or  more,14  all  mirthful  trifles  in 
which  his  genius  for  comedy  is  manifest;  The  Young 
Countess  (La  Contessina),  for  instance,  a  youthful 

12  La   Generosita  politica,  Gustavo  prlmo  re  di  Svezia,  Oronte  re  de* 
Sciti,  and  Statira. 

13  Pasquali  edition,   1761. 

14  Dr.  Cesare  Musatti   (/  Drammi  musicali  di  Carlo  Goldoni}  has  col- 
lected the   titles   of   eighty-six   musical   plays  by  Goldoni,   including  the 
more  serious  operas,  as  well  as  the  musical  interludes,  such  as  //  Gon- 
doliere  Veneziano.     Of  the  merry  plays  he  gives  the  titles  of  more  than 
fifty.     Over    sixty    different   musicians,    among   them   Galuppi,    Paisiello, 
Cimarosa,  Jomelli,  Bach,  Haydn,  and  Mozart,  composed  music  for  Gol- 
doni's  libretti. 


138  GOLDONI 

effort  of  this  nature,  displaying  in  its  dainty  love- 
story  of  a  bourgeois  lad  who  pretends  to  be  a  marquis 
in  order  to  win  a  noble  lady's  hand,  more  truth  to 
nature  than  is  to  be  found  in  any  of  his  sombre  trage- 
dies. Yet  to  linger  over  his  "merry  plays  for  music" 
is  to  wander  from  the  comedy  he  glorified.  Though 
more  replete  with  art  than  his  tragedies  and  tragi- 
comedies, they  are,  like  his  interludes — to  use  a  com- 
mercial phrase — only  "by-products"  of  his  genius, 
and  therefore  merely  beg  the  question  of  his  art. 

Before  he  turned  his  lagging  steps  towards  comedy, 
Zeno  told  him  that  his  opera,  Gustavus  I,  King  of 
Sweden  (Gustavo  primo  re  di  Svezia)  was 
"mediocre,  though  a  hundred  times  better  than  those 
merely  imitated  from  the  work  of  others  [meaning 
himself]."  When  it  was  produced  "the  actors  were 
good,"  Goldoni  tells  us,  "the  music  excellent,  and  the 
ballets  very  lively,  but  nothing  was  said  of  the  play. 
I  was  behind  the  curtain,"  he  adds,  "sharing  the  ap- 
plause that  did  not  belong  to  me,  and  in  order  to 
pacify  myself,  I  said  that  this  is  not  my  style,  mean- 
while resolving  to  have  my  revenge  with  my  next 
comedy."  Thus  was  he  guided  by  popular  acclaim 
toward  the  road  he  should  have  been  following. 

His  first  sustained  comedy  is  Don  Juan  Tenorlo; 
or,  The  Debauchee  (1736),  an  imitated  play  and 
therefore,  like  his  efforts  in  tragedy,  opera,  and  ver- 
sified comedy,  merely  a  step  in  the  dark.  His  ca- 
reer as  a  painter  of  the  foibles  of  mankind  really 
began  two  years  later  (1738)  with  The  Man  of  the 


THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY  139 

World  (L'Uomo  dl  mondo)  ; 15  a  play  that  in  the 
slang  of  our  day  would  be  called  "The  Man  About 
Town,"  or  better  still  "The  Good  Fellow" ;  Momolo, 
its  principal  character,  being,  to  quote  his  author, 
"generous  without  profusion,  gay  without  rashness; 
fond  of  pleasure  without  ruining  himself,  and  pre- 
pared to  bear  a  part  in  everything  for  the  good  of 
society."  His  family  name  is  Bisognosi;  therefore 
he  is  a  son  of  Pantalone  spending  for  his  pleasure  the 
money  his  hard-fisted  father  has  amassed — in  a  word, 
a  typical  rich  man's  son. 

Although  "a  good  fellow,"  Momolo  is  no  degen- 
erate like  the  Venetians  who  in  1797  paled  at  the 
sound  of  Bonaparte's  drums.  He  loves  pleasure  and 
spends  his  father's  hard-earned  sequins  freely,  yet  he 
is  a  true  descendant  of  his  sturdy  ancestors.  Scorning 
to  wear  a  sword,  he  disarms  a  fop  who  threatens  him 
with  one,  and  when  he  meets  a  pair  of  bravos  who 
have  been  paid  to  beat  him,  instead  of  fleeing,  he 
boldly  accosts  them,  and  by  his  genial  manners  induces 
them  to  beat  instead  the  very  coward  who  has  bribed 
them.  Momolo  is  indeed  a  true  son  of  Venice  in  her 
prime,  and  though  the  first  of  Goldoni's  sustained 
characters  drawn  from  the  life  of  his  native  city,  de- 
serving of  a  high  place  among  them. 

Possibly  Mr.  Bernard  Shaw  found  in  this  comedy 
the  original  of  his  Man  and  Superman,  there  being 

15  This  comedy  was  called  originally  Momolo  Cortesan,  Momolo,  being 
a  diminutive  of  Girolamo  or  Jerome,  but  when  Goldoni  gave  it  to  the 
press  he  changed  the  name  to  L'Uomo  dl  mondo;  the  subtitle  being 
El  Cortesan  venezian. 


i4o  GOLDONI 

in  it  a  lady  named  Eleonora,  who  pursues  Momolo 
throughout  the  three  acts  so  diligently  that,  although 
he  declares  he  has  no  intention  of  relinquishing  the 
blessings  of  bachelorhood,  he  is  finally  entrapped  in 
matrimony  by  the  unblushing  assiduity  of  her  decla- 
rations of  love,  a  result  not  accomplished,  however, 
until  after  he  has  discovered  the  little  laundress,  who 
is  the  pastime  of  his  idle  moments,  supping  with  the 
poor  but  ardent  admirer  on  whom  she  has  bestowed 
her  real  affections. 

Smeraldina,  this  sophisticated  laundress,  is  in- 
cited to  pluck  good-natured  Momolo  by  her  brother 
Arlecchino,16  as  shiftless  a  rogue  as  ever  graced  com- 
edy. A  street  porter  too  lazy  to  work  even  when  the 
chance  offers,  Arlecchino  gambles  away  the  profits  of 
his  sister's  charms,  and  when  Momolo  agrees  to  pay 
for  her  instruction  at  the  ballet  school  he  sends  him 
the  bills  for  the  fine  clothes  that  will  enable  him  to 
swagger  about  the  coffee-houses  and  gambling-dens 
of  Venice  as  the  brother  of  a  ballet  dancer;  while  in 
order  that  no  one  shall  mistake  his  new  quality,  he 
washes  his  hands  for  the  first  time  in  a  year.  Ludro, 
too,  a  chevalier  d' Industrie,  who  preys  upon  the 
strangers  in  Venice,  is  another  rogue  quite  as  cosmo- 
politan in  his  rascality,  his  type  being  met  in  every 
large  city. 

A  picture  of  actual  life,  true  in  characterization, 
natural  in  dialogue,  and  containing  all  the  germs  of 

16  Called  Truffaldino  when  the  play  was  printed,  because  Sacchi,  who 
played  the  part,  was  known  as  Truffaldino. 


THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY  141 

its  author's  greatness,  The  Man  of  the  World  was 
written  because  Goldoni's  inclinations  were  at  last 
fixed  on  comedy,  with  "good  comedy"  as  his  "proper 
aim."  "It  was  not  reduced  to  dialogue  at  first,"  he 
tells  us,  "the  only  part  written  out"  being  that  of  "the 
principal  actor,"  hence  in  its  first  form  it  was  essen- 
tially an  improvised  comedy  in  which  three  of  the 
masks,  Arlecchino,  Brighella,  and  II  Dottore  took 
part.  There  are  no  lazzi,  however,  distinct  from  the 
plot;  moreover,  it  was  a  Venetian  play  in  which  the 
Venetian  characters  speak  the  dialect  of  the  city  of 
lagoons. 

In  his  next  comedy,  The  Prodigal  (II  Prodigo), 
which  is  similar  in  treatment,  Goldoni  pictures  life 
on  the  banks  of  the  Brenta,  the  Newport  of  Venice, 
where  "opulence  explodes  itself  and  mediocrity  is 
ruined,"  a  young  Venetian  again  named  Momolo  be- 
ing the  hero.  Yet  he  is  not  the  same  Momolo  who 
figures  in  the  preceding  comedy,  and  although  the 
scene  is  the  charmed  spot  where  the  spendthrift  de- 
scendants of  the  sturdy  merchants  who  had  glorified 
Venice  built  rococo  villas  and  factitious  gardens 
adorned  with  voluptuous  statuary,  our  dramatist  fails 
to  depict  the  luxurious  country  life  of  the  idle  rich 
of  Venice  so  well  as  in  the  later  comedies  he  was  to 
place  upon  the  Brenta's  shaded  banks.  His  second 
Momolo,  moreover,  is  no  such  worthy  fellow  as  his 
namesake  the  man  of  the  world,  but  rather  a  witless 
spender  of  an  inheritance,  tricked  by  his  steward,  and 


i42  GOLDONI 

twisted  around  the  thumb  of  the  widow  he  loves, 
when  she  comes  to  his  villa  attended  by  her  brother 
and  an  adoring  cousin  of  her  late  husband. 

These  two  plays  in  which  a  Momolo  appears  are 
both  comedies  of  Venetian  life,  showing  unmistak- 
ably, albeit  dimly,  the  first  sign  of  Goldoni's  genius. 
After  their  production,  the  mask  actors  of  Imer's 
troupe  became  so  importunate  in  demanding  old-fash- 
ioned comedies,  in  which  their  talents  might  shine, 
that  he  was  forced  to  write  for  them  two  scenari 
styled  respectively,  Harlequin's  Thirty-Two  Misfor- 
tunes (Le  Trentadue  disgrazie  d'Arlecchino)  and  A 
Hundred  and  Four  Mishaps  in  a  Single  Night  or, 
the  Critical  Night  (Cento  e  quattro  accidenti  in  una 
notte  o  la  notte  critica) .  These  scenari  have  not  been 
printed,  but  the  first  had,  Goldoni  tells  us,  "all  the 
success  possible  for  an  improvised  piece,"  the  admir- 
ers of  the  mask  comedy  finding  in  his  thirty-two  mis- 
fortunes "more  discretion  and  common  sense  than  in 
former  improvised  comedies";  while  the  hundred 
and  four  mishaps  of  the  second  scenario  followed  one 
another  in  a  way  so  complicated  that  this  play  "might 
have  been  called  the  actors'  test,"  so  much  did  its  suc- 
cess depend  upon  the  ability  of  its  interpreters. 

In  order  to  imagine  what  the  complicated  action 
of  these  lost  scenari  was  like,  it  is  necessary  to  examine 
The  Servant  of  Two  Masters  (II  Servitore  di  due 
padroni),  the  one  among  Goldoni's  extant  plays  most 
thoroughly  in  the  spirit  of  the  Improvised  Comedy. 
In  this  piece,  written  five  years  later  than  the  lost 


THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY  143 

scenari,  Arlecchino  17  appears  in  his  true  guise  of  a 
blunderhead  who  complicates  the  plot  by  his  stupidi- 
ties. Pantalone,  too,  is  the  dotard  of  the  Improvised 
Comedy  rather  than  the  wise  Venetian  merchant 
Goldoni  presented  so  frequently  at  a  later  day;  while 
II  Dottore  is  merely  the  blustering  spouter  of  maca- 
ronic Latin  made  familiar  by  generations  of  mask 
actors.  The  lovers,  Florindo  and  Beatrice,  love  and 
sigh  in  the  old-fashioned  way;  the  complicated  plot, 
too,  with  its  deft  intrigue  and  rapid  movement,  is  the 
counterpart  of  an  improvised  comedy  plot  tied  to- 
gether by  Arlecchino's  droll  lazzl. 

This  play,  so  lacking  in  the  qualities  that  distin- 
guish its  author,  demonstrates  more  clearly,  perhaps, 
than  any  of  his  earlier  pieces  the  noble  advance  he 
made  in  his  art  when  he  forswore  the  hackneyed 
methods  of  Improvised  Comedy.  It  shows,  be- 
sides, in  its  rapid  change  of  scene,  his  early  disregard 
of  the  conventional  unity  of  place,  a  sane  freedom  of 
construction  he  maintained  whenever  it  suited  his 
purpose,  and  which  he  thus  ably  defends  in  The 
Comic  Theatre,  his  views  being  remarkably  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  modern  theory  of  the  drama: 

Aristotle  began  to  write  concerning  comedy,  but  he  did  not 
finish,  and  we  have  from  him  but  a  few  imperfect  fragments  re- 
garding it.  In  his  Poetics  he  prescribed  the  unity  of  place  for 
tragedy;  yet  he  did  not  mention  comedy  then.  There  are  those 
who  maintain  that  his  statements  about  tragedy  must  be  interpreted 
as  referring  to  comedy  also,  and  that  if  he  had  finished  his  treatise 

17  Again  called  Truffaldino  because  the  part  was  played  by  Sacchi, 
known  by  that  sobriquet. 


1 44  GOLDONI 

on  comedy,  he  would  have  prescribed  the  unity  of  place.  But  my 
answer  is,  that  if  Aristotle  were  now  alive,  he  would  cancel  this 
obnoxious  precept,  because  a  thousand  absurdities,  a  thousand 
blunders  and  improprieties  are  caused  by  it.  I  distinguish  two 
kinds  of  comedy:  pure  comedies  and  comedies  of  intrigue.  Pure 
comedy  can  be  written  with  the  unity  of  place.  Comedy  of  in- 
trigue cannot  be  thus  written  without  crudity  and  incongruity. 
The  ancients  had  not,  like  ourselves,  a  way  to  shift  scenery,  and 
for  that  reason  they  observed  the  unities.  We  have  always  ob- 
served the  unity  of  place  when  the  action  occurs  in  the  same  city, 
and  all  the  more  when  it  remains  in  the  same  house.  .  .  .  There- 
fore, I  conclude  that  if  comedy  with  the  unity  of  place  can  be 
written  without  hair-splitting  or  unseemliness,  it  should  be  done; 
but  if  on  account  of  the  unity  of  place  absurdities  have  to  be  intro- 
duced, it  is  better  to  change  the  scenes  and  observe  the  rules  of 
probability. 

Five  years  before  he  wrote  The  Servant  of  Two 
Masters,  the  play  that  has  led  to  this  digression,  Gol- 
doni  took  a  decided  step  forward  in  his  art  with  The 
Bankruptcy  (La  Bancarotta) ,  the  comedy  that  fol- 
lowed the  two  scenari  of  mishaps  he  had  written  to 
placate  the  mask  actors  of  Imer's  troupe.  Here  he 
stood  on  firm  ground,  for  although  The  Bankruptcy 
presents  the  four  Venetian  masks,  and,  like  The  Man 
of  the  World,  was  only  partly  written  at  the  time  of 
its  presentation,  it  is  nevertheless  a  comedy  of  charac- 
ter, inspired  by  the  excellent  moral  purpose  of  expos- 
ing financial  trickery.  Moreover,  there  is  a  certain 
Balzacian  realism  in  this  play,  Pantalone  its  princi- 
pal character  being  like  Cesar  Birotteau,18  the  victim 
of  his  own  unthriftiness  and  extravagance.  Yet  far 
from  passing  sleepless  nights  of  repentance,  this  Ve- 

18  Grandeur  et  decadence  de  Char  Birotteau. 


THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY  145 

netian  bankrupt  bears  his  financial  burdens  so  lightly 
that  no  sooner  is  he  freed  from  the  menaces  of  his 
creditors  by  the  efforts  of  Dr.  Lombardi,  his  friend 
and  legal  adviser,  than  he  gives  a  lavish  party  for 
Clarice,  an  opera  singer,  and  loses  his 'last  sequin  at 
cards  to  the  bogus  nobleman  she  cherishes.  He  is  a 
wicked  old  rake  whose  financial  embarrassment  is 
caused  by  his  own  vices  quite  as  much  as  by  an  utter 
lack  of  business  acumen.  Selling  his  merchandise  to 
shady  customers  on  credit,  he  is  also  robbed  by  his 
clerk  Truffaldino,  while  the  cash  that  finds  its  way 
across  his  counter  is  squandered  upon  Clarice  and 
other  queans  without  the  slightest  remorse  for  the 
wrong  he  thus  does  his  worthy  son,  his  flighty  second 
wife  being  almost  as  undeserving  of  pity  as  himself. 
When  Pantalone  is  enmeshed  in  the  toils  of  the  law 
a  second  time,  Dr.  Lombardi  forces  him  to  place  his 
affairs  in  the  hands  of  his  son.  Bidding  farewell  to 
his  family  with  scarcely  a  tinge  of  remorse,  he  goes 
forth  to  rustication  with  no  regret  for  the  good  times 
he  has  had,  but  glad,  rather,  of  their  memory  to  cheer 
his  unregenerate  old  heart.  Here  vice,  though  pun- 
ished, is  unrepentant,  a  strange  conclusion  to  a  com- 
edy by  one  who,  "seeking  nature  everywhere,"  found 
it  "beautiful  only  when  it  furnished  him  with  virtu- 
ous models." 

The  Bankruptcy  is  crude  in  construction  and  often 
slovenly  in  dialogue ;  yet  it  is  one  of  Goldoni's  truest 
comedies,  peccable  old  men  such  as  Pantalone  being 
plucked  wherever  the  ballet  flourishes.  Moreover  the 


146  GOLDONI 

fact  that  its  sermon  is  not  preached  didactically  makes 
its  effect  enduring,  Pantalone  being  a  ruthlessly  drawn 
picture  of  a  wreck  upon  the  sands  of  life,  whose 
weak,  old,  vice-ridden  features  haunt  the  reader  long 
after  portraits  less  cruelly  true  have  been  forgotten. 
Like  The  Man  of  the  World,  this  comedy  of  financial 
shortcomings  contains  the  germs  of  Goldoni's  great- 
ness. Though  less  polished,  it  is  truer  to  life  than 
The  Clever  Woman  (La  Donna  di  garbo),  its  suc- 
cessor, a  comedy  wherein  a  girl  of  the  people  is 
placed  upon  a  pedestal  so  high  that  we  must  needs 
crane  our  necks  to  see  her  likeness  to  humanity. 

Though  her  father  is  a  mere  footman  and  her 
mother  a  laundress,  Bettina  the  heroine  of  this  play  is 
the  peer  of  any  doctor  of  Padua  in  learning.  More- 
over, a  girl  as  astute  as  she  proves  herself  would  not 
be  likely  to  be  seduced  by  a  flighty  young  student, 
even  though  he  promised  to  marry  her.  Her  knowl- 
edge of  law  and  the  humanities  was  acquired  at 
Pavia,  Goldoni  tells  us,  by  listening  to  the  learned 
talk  of  the  students  when  she  delivered  her  mother's 
laundry  work  at  their  doors, — surely  a  charge  upon 
our  credulity.  She  is  a  clever  minx,  however, 
learned  in  the  ways  of  the  world  as  well  as  in  book 
lore,  for  when  she  is  deserted  by  Florindo,  her  student 
lover,  she  comes  to  Bologna  and  takes  service  as  a 
lady's  maid  in  the  household  of  his  father,  a  promi- 
nent lawyer  of  that  town.  There  she  schemes  so  suc- 
cessfully to  win  the  regard,  not  only  of  her  master  but 
of  his  entire  household  that  when  Florindo  comes 


THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY  147 

home  from  Pavia,  accompanied  by  a  nobleman's 
daughter  disguised  as  a  fellow-student,  he  finds  Bet- 
tina  firmly  entrenched  in  the  hearts  of  his  family,  his 
father  having  even  gone  so  far  as  to  ask  her  hand  to 
cheer  his  lonely  old  age. 

In  a  debate  held  in  order  that  Florindo  may  de- 
monstrate the  worth  of  his  university  training,  Bettina 
bombards  him  with  such  a  fusillade  of  Latin  phrases 
that  rather  than  betray  his  ignorance  he  admits  that 
a  man  of  honour  must  keep  a  promise  of  marriage  no 
matter  how  it  is  made.  Thinking  Bettina's  shaft  is 
directed  at  his  own  breast,  the  father  publicly  pro- 
claims his  intention  of  marrying  her  himself; 
whereupon,  the  son,  to  prevent  such  a  misalliance, 
acknowledges  that  Bettina  has  been  the  dalliance  of 
his  student  days.  Forced  to  confess  that  he  had  prom- 
ised to  marry  her,  he  is  forced  also  by  the  general  re- 
gard in  which  she  is  held  to  comply  with  the  words  of 
his  public  admission  that  a  man  of  honour  should  keep 
such  a  promise.  But  Florindo  has  also  promised  to 
marry  Isabella,  the  girl  who  has  eloped  with  him  in 
male  attire.  Luckily  there  is  a  young  snob  at  hand 
not  averse  to  marrying  a  nobleman's  daughter  howso- 
ever tarnished,  especially  when  it  is  pointed  out  to 
him  that  she  is  an  heiress ;  so  Florindo  gives  his  hand, 
albeit  reluctantly,  to  Bettina,  the  adroit  girl  who  has 
outwitted  him,  the  comedy  ending  in  her  triumph. 

Although  The  Clever  Woman  is  distinctly  inferior 
in  characterization  and  atmosphere  to  both  The 
Bankruptcy  and  The  Man  of  the  World,  it  is  their 


148  GOLDONI 

superior  in  dramatic  construction  and  literary  expres- 
sion. Furthermore,  it  is  the  first  of  Goldoni's  orig- 
inal character  comedies  19  in  which  the  dialogue  was 
entirely  written;  therefore  "it  marks  a  notable  step  in 
his  development  as  a  dramatist."  From  the  elements 
of  the  Improvised  Comedy  he  had  finally  produced 
a  comedy  of  contemporary  manners,  in  which  the 
comedians,  though  appearing  in  their  masks  and  con- 
ventional garb,  spoke  written  dialogue,  their  lazzi 
being,  moreover,  an  element  of  the  plot  instead  of 
irrelevant  horse-play.  This  is  the  form  of  most  of 
his  Venetian  comedies  in  Tuscan  prose,  only  those  in 
dialect  lacking  all  of  the  familiar  masks,  who  in  his 
deft  hands  became  truthful  characters  of  Venetian 
life.  Their  importance,  however,  he  gradually  cur- 
tailed, and  in  his  exotic  comedies  and  his  comedies  in 
verse  he  dispensed  with  them  entirely. 

Being  the  first  of  his  character  comedies  built  from 
the  elements  of  the  Improvised  Comedy,  in  which  the 
dialogue  was  entirely  written,  as  well  as  the  last 
comedy  he  wrote  for  Imer's  troupe,  The  Clever 
Woman  marks  the  close  of  the  first  period  of 
Goldoni's  dramatic  career.  During  this  period  of 
essay  he  had  learned  by  experimenting  with  tragedy, 
tragi-comedy,  opera,  opera  bouffe,  versified  comedy, 
musical  interludes,  and  improvised  comedy,  that  only 
when  he  wrote  pure  comedy  were  "all  the  applause, 
all  the  hand-claps,  all  the  bravos,  for  him  alone."  It 
was  a  lesson  well  learnt.  In  his  efforts  to  Italianize 

19  Don  Giovanni  Tenorio  was  merely  an  adaptation. 


THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY  149 

the  refined  French  comedy  of  his  day,  he  wrote,  there- 
after, many  a  false  and  stilted  play,  yet  seldom  did  he 
court  Melpomene  again,  Thalia  being  henceforth 
chief  mistress  of  his  ambition. 

After  writing  The  Clever  Woman,  he  left  Venice 
without  seeing  it  produced,  and  finally  settled  at 
Pisa,  where  although  a  practising  lawyer,  he  did  not 
entirely  abandon  his  connection  with  the  stage,  since 
he  wrote  while  there  several  comedies  for  music, 
and  two  improvised  comedies.  The  Servant  of  Two 
Masters,  one  of  the  latter,  has  already  been  described; 
the  other  was  called  Harlequin's  Son  Lost  and  Found 
(II  Figlio  d'  Arlecchino  perduto  e  ritrovato). 
Though  its  Parisian  success  many  years  later  caused 
him  to  be  invited  by  Les  Comediens  du  roi  de  la 
troupe  Itallenne,  to  visit  Paris,  Goldoni  condemns 
its  lack  of  verisimilitude,  it  being  in  his  opinion  "little 
better  than  the  work  of  a  schoolboy."  20 

Returning  to  Venice  during  the  summer  of  1748  as 
a  professional  playwright,  he  began  the  remarkable 
period  of  his  career  that  ended  with  his  departure  for 
Paris  in  the  spring  of  1762.  During  these  fourteen 
years  he  wrote  his  best  comedies  and  won  enduring 
fame.  The  play  with  which  he  made  his  new  bow 
to  his  fellow  citizens 21  was  a  failure,  while  the  two 
that  succeeded  it  were  but  partial  successes.22  Not 

20  According  to  Giulio  Caprin  (op.  cit.)  Desboulmiets'sHistoire  anecdo- 
tique  et  raisonnee  du  theatre  italien  jusqu'b  1769,  contains  a  resume  of 
this  scenario. 

21  Tonin  bella  grazia,  o  il  Frappatore. 
22L'Uomo  prudente  and  /  Due  gemelli  venezlanl 


150  GOLDONI 

until  carnival  time  of  that  first  season  (1748-1749) 
did  he  cast  aside  the  antiquated  methods  of  the  past, 
and  present  to  his  delighted  fellow-townsmen  the  two 
plays  that  first  distinguish  him  as  the  creator  of  a  na- 
tional comedy.  In  The  Artful  Widow  (La  Vedova 
scaltra),  one  of  these  epoch-marking  comedies,  he 
paints  in  Tuscan  prose  a  spirited  picture  of  the  cosmo- 
politan society  of  Venice;  in  the  other,  called  The 
Respectable  Girl  (La  Putta  onorata),  written  in  the 
soft  dialect  of  Venice,  he  stands  forth  as  the  dramatic 
tribune  of  her  people.  Henceforth,  whenever  he  was 
not  enticed  away  from  his  native  genius  by  French 
refinement,  he  was  Venice's  Gran  Goldoni, — true 
painter  of  her  sons  and  daughters,  true  spokesman  of 
her  sentiments  and  passions. 

To  attain  this  fame  he  was  obliged  to  tread  a  stony 
path.  Wearied  by  the  antiquated  and  obscene  lazzi 
of  the  Improvised  Comedy,  the  intelligent  public  of 
Venice  had  become  wedded  to  the  melodrama  of  Zeno 
and  Metastasio ;  therefore  Goldoni  was  obliged  to 
create  a  following  for  the  new  comedy.  Moreover^ 
his  actors  were  only  wretched  outcasts  beyond  the 
social  pale,  whose  voices,  when  their  efforts  failed  to 
please,  were  drowned  by  the  hisses  and  catcalls  of 
ribald  audiences.  No  Richelieu  or  Louis  XIV  sus- 
tained him;  yet  this  patient  Venetian  plunged  cour- 
ageously into  the  Herculean  task  of  cleansing  the 
filthy  comedy  of  his  day.  Making  his  theatre  a 
wholesome  resort  for  his  fellow-townsmen,  he  mir- 
rored them  truly  there  in  the  hope  that  his  humorous 


THE  PERIOD  OF  ESSAY  151 

expositions  of  their  vices  and  foibles  might  turn  them 
from  their  degeneracy  back  to  the  glory  of  their 
ancestors.  Since  the  brilliance  of  the  Rinascimento 
had  waned,  artistic  truth  had  lain  buried  in  arti- 
ficiality and  filth.  When  this  pioneer  of  the  Ris- 
orgimento  reached  Venice  in  the  autumn  of  1748,  he 
had  already  unearthed  the  corpse  his  naturalism  was 
soon  to  bring  to  resurrection. 


V 

FROM  ARCADIA  TO  THALIA'S  SHRINE 

WHEN  the  story  of  his  wandering  was  ar- 
rested, Goldohi  was  journeying,  it  will  be 
recalled,  on  horseback  toward  Tuscany 
with  the  intention  of  familiarizing  himself  with  the 
Florentines  and  Siennese,  whom  he  styled  "the  living 
texts  of  pure  Italian."  His  native  speech  being  a 
dialect,  an  acquaintance  with  the  literary  language 
of  Italy  was  necessary  for  the  fulfilment  of  his  ambi- 
tion to  create  a  written  Italian  comedy;  his  pilgrim- 
age to  Tuscany,  therefore,  was  not  so  aimless  as  the 
many  roamings  his  vagabondizing  instinct  had  here- 
tofore inspired.  The  years  he  subsequently  passed  on 
the  banks  of  the  Arno  made  him  familiar  with  the 
euphuism  of  literary  Italy,  as  well  as  with  its  lan- 
guage; for  until  he  reached  Tuscany  he  had  not 
breathed  the  scent-laden  air  of  those  rococo  drawing- 
rooms  in  which  the  femmes  savantes  of  eighteenth 
century  Italy  paid  languishing  court  to  its  Trissotins 
and  Vadiuses. 

Although  the  Italian  literary  coteries  of  his  day 
were  even  more  vapid  and  affected  than  the  French 
societies  of  alcovistes  and  precieuses  which  Moliere 
had  satirized  so  scathingly  during  the  previous  cen- 

152 


ARCADIA  TO  THALIA'S  SHRINE     153 

tury,  Goldoni  does  not  appear  to  have  realized  that 
the  Arcadian  Academy  of  Rome  and  its  many  colo- 
nies were  merely  the  lazarets  of  the  epidemic,  aptly 
described  by  Dr.  William  Roscoe  Thayer  as  "a 
Phceban  influenza  whose  victims  sneezed  in 
rhythm."  1  On  the  contrary,  in  his  memoirs  he  shows 
the  Arcadian  Academy  considerable  deference,  and 
when  in  one  of  his  comedies 2  he  directs  his  satire 
against  its  pretentions,  the  rep*roof  he  administers  is 
but  a  gentle  fillip  compared  to  the  cruel  lashing  Mo- 
liere  bestowed  upon  the  euphuists  of  France. 

As  the  reader  may  never  have  sauntered  into  that 
remote  haunt  of  verbiage  and  poetastry,  the  Arcadian 
Academy,  "Papa  Goldoni'f— as  the  Venetians  still 
tenderly  style  him — shall  for  the  moment  be  left 
journeying  across  the  Apennines  with  good  Nicoletta 
on  a  nag  beside  him,  while  we  turn  aside  to  enter  the 
Parrhasian  Grove  of  the  Arcadians  for  a  glimpse  of 
their  departed  splendour. 

The  period  of  their  literary  history  following  the 
grand  manner  (forma  splendida)  of  the  cinquecento 
the  Italians  call  the  period  of  exaggeration  (periodo 
dell'  esagerazione) .  Chronologically  it  corresponds 
to  those  brilliant  years  in  France  when  the  classical 
ideal  inaugurated  by  Malherbe  was  nationalized  by 
Corneille  and  his  great  contemporaries;  yet  in  Italy 
not  one  notable  man  of  letters  appeared  to  grace  it. 
In  the  realm  of  science  Galileo  Galilei  was  a  genius, 
and  Guido  Reni  was  far  from  contemptible  in  paint- 

1  The  Dawn  of  Italian  Independence.  2  //  Poeta  fanatico. 


GOLDONI 

ing;  yet  languid  Marini,  who  gave  preciosity  to 
France,  was  the  most  widely  known  poet  of  Italy  dur- 
ing the  seventeenth  century,  while  Adriani  and  Mar- 
telli  were  the  principal  dramatists.  The  period  of 
exaggeration,  therefore,  might  as  fittingly  be  styled 
the  period  of  literary  death.  Indeed,  literature  be- 
came so  turgid  that  its  feeble  heart  could  no  longer 
give  it  blood :  hence,  like  a  man  with  dropsy,  it  per- 
ished of  its  own  distension  and  lay  dead  until  Metas- 
tasio,  Goldoni,  Alfieri,  and  Parini  breathed  between 
its  cold  lips  the  life  that  brought  it  to  resurrection. 
Meanwhile,  the  Arcadian  Academy  had  risen  to 
power,  held  sway,  and  in  its  turn  was  dying  a  linger- 
ing death. 

This  strange  institution  was  founded  in  Rome  dur- 
ing the  last  decade  of  the  seventeenth  century — a  time 
when  Spanish  tyranny  and  papal  domination  had  left 
Italy  a  prey  to  brutality  and  fanaticism.  In  the 
words  of  Giuseppe  Finzi,  a  modern  Italian  commen- 
tator : 3 

All  the  highest  ideals  that  are  wont  to  furnish  and  maintain  the 
right  of  citizenship  were  then  extinguished;  oppressed  and  bled 
to  the  point  of  exhaustion,  the  people  were  stagnating,  and  the  well- 
to-do  and  educated  class  was  selfishly  and  recklessly  endeavour- 
ing to  enjoy  the  present  as  best  it  might,  hiding  beneath  a  hypo- 
critical display  of  formality  and  manner  and  an  artificial,  supersti- 
tious piety,  the  corruption  that  was  consuming  it,  mothlike,  from 
within.  Filled  with  vanity  and  conceit,  the  nobles  embellished 
themselves  in  splendour  and  arrogance,  vied  with  each  other  in  ex- 
travagance, pomp,  and  gallantry,  pastured  themselves  on  flattery 
and  base  homage,  and  thus  upheld,  like  their  Spanish  conquerors, 
^Lezioni  di  storia  della  letteratura  italiana. 


ARCADIA  TO  THALIA'S  SHRINE     155 

their  preeminence  over  the  other  social  classes.  Both  idle  and 
lazy,  they  avoided  applying  thought  and  labour  to  anything  serious, 
useful,  or  truly  noble. 

It  was  a  time  when  poets  earned  their  daily  bread 
by  writing  laudatory  odes,  no  patrician  wedding  being 
held,  no  well-born  nun  taking  the  veil,  no  noble's 
child  being  christened,  no  cardinal  chosen  from  the 
aristocracy  without  reams  of  verse  being  penned  in 
honour  of  the  event;  and  when  there  were  no  auspici- 
ous occasions  to  laud,  there  were  books  of  vapid 
rhymes  to  be  dedicated  in  hyperbole  to  patronizing 
noblemen  or  vainglorious  prelates. 

When  this  seventeenth  century,  so  lumpish  in  Italy, 
so  alert  in  France,  was  drawing  to  a  close,  a  group  of 
vain  pedants  who  had  been  enjoying  in  Rome  the 
hospitality  of  ex-Queen  Christina  of  Sweden  were 
forced  by  the  death  of  their  freakish  patroness  to  seek 
a  new  asylum.  For  lack  of  a  patrician  abode  in 
which  to  forgather,  they  met,  fourteen  in  number,  one 
balmy  spring  morning  of  the  year  1690  in  the  mead- 
ows behind  the  castle  of  Sant'  Angelo,  known  as  the 
Prati  di  Castello.  While  these  apostles  of  fustian 
were  improvising  verses  in  the  shade  of  sighing  elms 
and  vociferously  applauding  one  another,  one  of  them 
became  so  enthusiastic  over  the  pastoral  nature  of  the 
scene  that  he  exclaimed,  "It  seems  to  me  that  to-day 
we  have  revived  Arcadia."  This  sentiment  caused 
his  comrades  to  vow  that  they  would  keep  Arcadia 
alive ;  whereupon  the  Arcadian  Academy  (L'Accade- 
mia  dell'  Arcadia]  was  instituted,  the  first  step  in  its 


156  GOLDONI 

development  being  the  adoption  of  a  name  by  each 
member  suitable  to  his  state  as  an  Arcadian  shepherd ; 
the  next,  the  election  of  a  Gusto de  Generate,  or  shep- 
herd of  the  flock.  For  this  honour  Alfesibeo  Cario 
was  chosen,  that  being  the  Arcadian  name  of  the 
Abate  Crescimbeni,  vainest,  dullest,  yet  most  persis- 
tent of  the  Academicians.  The  opposing  candidate 
was  Gravina,  known  in  Arcadia  as  Opico  Erimanteo. 
This  jurist  and  critic,  who  was  destined  to  befriend 
Metastasio,  then  unborn,  became  so  chagrined  by  his 
defeat  that  he  sulked  in  his  tent,  thence  to  lead  an  un- 
successful revolt  against  the  rule  of  Crescimbeni,  a 
crabbed  priest  with  "a  brain  half  wood  and  half  lead" 
and  a  crooked  nose,  which  inspired  the  nickname  of 
Naslca.  Meanwhile,  because  of  its  exclusiveness, 
all  literary  and  social  Rome  clamoured  for  admission 
to  the  new  academy. 

Arcadia  was  established  as  a  republic  of  letters, 
each  sheep  being  as  good  as  its  neighbour.  Within 
its  gates  parrot-beaked  Crescimbeni  piped  metaphor- 
ically on  the  syrinx,  the  Academy's  symbol,  whilst  the 
cardinals,  priests,  jurists,  nobles,  and  plebeian  literati 
who  composed  his  flock  gambolled  in  black  broad- 
cloth smocks  and  full-bottomed  wigs  with  crook-bear- 
ing shepherdesses  who  in  real  life  were  portly  duch- 
esses, mayhap.  When  the  untoward  exercise  made 
them  lose  breath,  they  fell  upon  their  knees  to  spout 
languishing  verses  on  the  havoc  Cupid  had  wrought. 
Meanwhile  a  chef  de  cuisine  would  prepare  bucolic 
goodies  to  be  served  in  a  rustic  bower. 


ARCADIA  TO  THALIA'S  SHRINE     157 

Arcadia  was  serious  in  purpose,  however,  its  object 
being  "to  exterminate  bad  taste."  It  had,  besides,  a 
weighty  code  of  laws  penned  by  Gravina  before  his 
revolt,  and,  in  the  person  of  Crescimbeni,  its  Custode 
Generale,  an  indefatigable  chronicler  who  wrote  not 
only  its  history  voluminously,  but  also  its  rules  for 
the  composition  of  every  imaginable  poetic  form, 
from  the  maggiolate  and  the  motti  to  the  contradisper- 
ate  and  the  cobole;  yet,  earnest  though  its  intentions 
were,  its  members,  while  "pursuing  bad  taste  even  in- 
to fortresses  and  villas  least  known  and  least  sus- 
pected," failed  to  realize  that  its  real  abiding  place 
was  Arcadia  itself.  The  official  home  of  the  Acad- 
emy was  known  as  the  Mew  (Serbatoio),  "a  very  lit- 
tle thing,"  as  a  contemporary  remarks,  "filled  with 
very  little  things,  in  which  the  only  large  thing  was 
Crescimbeni's  nose."  After  its  members  had  in- 
augurated Olympic  games  in  his  honour,  John  V,  the 
profligate  King  of  Portugal,  presented  them  in  1726 
with  a  triangular  strip  of  land  on  the  Janiculum, 
which,  on  being  laid  out  in  flower  beds  and  terraces, 
and  styled  the  Parrhasian  Grove  (Bosco  Parrasio), 
became  Arcadia's  summer  residence. 

Meanwhile  the  men  of  the  seventeenth  century  were 
dying  and  those  of  the  eighteenth  were  taking  their 
places.  There  was  less  Spanish  stagnation  or  papal 
nepotism  in  Italy  then,  and  more  French  levity  and 
tolerance,  but  Arcadia  still  flattered  princes,  whilst 
its  pedants  gloried  in  disputes,  and  its  poets,  such  as 
Frugoni,  whose  gorgeous  nonsense  gave  the  word 


158  GOLDONI 

frugoneria  to  the  Italian  language,  dissipated  their 
talents  in  high-flown  trash. 

But  the  talent  most  misapplied  of  all,  at  least  to  the 
northern  mind,  was  that  of  the  Cavalier  Bernardino 
Perfetti,  greatest  of  the  improvvisatori  and  a  man 
who  displayed  his  undoubted  ability  in  a  spectacular 
way.  It  is  precisely  because  he  could  extemporize 
any  given  amount  of  verse  on  any  given  subject  that 
his  performances  were  theatrical  rather  than  poetic. 
He  gave  so  great  an  impression  of  genius,  however, 
when  he  came  to  Rome  in  1725,  that  the  Pope,  after  a 
committee  of  twelve  Arcadians  had  judged  him 
worthy  of  the  honour,  awarded  him  the  crown  of  the 
Capitol  that  had  once  adorned  Petrarch's  brow. 

Shortly  after  this  profanation  of  literary  greatness 
took  place  amid  the  blare  of  trumpets  and  the  firing 
of  a  hundred  mortars,  hook-nosed  Crescimbeni  died 
(March  8,  1728).  He  was  succeeded  in  the  post  of 
Custode  Generale  by  his  friend  and  sacerdotal  col- 
league, the  Abate  Lorenzini.  Republican  Arcadia  had 
developed  under  the  former's  consulship  offshoots  in 
other  cities,  but  under  Lorenzini  it  became  an  empire, 
charters  for  colonies  galore  being  granted  by  him  in 
the  Parrhasian  Grove,  until  every  Italian  town  of  any 
ambition  whatsoever  boasted  a  branch  academy:  an 
extension  of  Arcadian  power  made  easy  by  the  na- 
tional aptitude  for  social  organization.  Although  Ar- 
cadia thus  expanded,  it  did  so  at  the  expense  of  its 
original  ideals.  Ceasing  to  be  an  exclusive  academy 
for  the  cultivation  of  literature,  it  became  the  Italian 


ARCADIA  TO  THALIA'S  SHRINE     159 

Great  World  of  the  day,  a  membership  in  it  or  one  of 
its  colonies  being  a  sine  qua  non  to  social  position. 
Yet  the  Academy,  by  developing  social  bonds  between 
prominent  Italians  in  different  parts  of  the  land,  must 
have  been  an  early  factor — though  doubtless  a  remote 
one — in  the  unification  of  Italy. 

Such  was  the  state  of  Arcadia  when  Goldoni  en- 
tered Tuscany  in  the  spring  of  1744,  after  an  unevent- 
ful journey  across  the  Apennines.  In  Florence  he 
passed  four  "truly  pleasurable  months,"  enjoying  the 
society  of  men  of  science  and  letters.  Hearing  that 
Perfetti  was  to  appear  in  Sienna  on  Assumption  Day 
before  the  Academy  of  the  Stupified  (Intronati),  he 
set  out  with  good  Nicoletta  for  the  Chianti  hills.  On 
reaching  Sienna  he  and  his  faithful  companion  were 
admitted  as  strangers  to  seats  in  the  Academy. 

"Perfetti  occupied  a  sort  of  pulpit,"  Goldoni  tells 
us,  "where  he  sang  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  strophes 
in  the  style  of  Pindar."  "Nothing  could  have  been 
more  beautiful  or  more  astonishing,"  our  dramatist 
continues ;  "he  was  by  turns  a  Petrarch,  a  Milton,  and 
a  Rousseau:  he  was  Pindar  himself!"  Indeed,  he 
had  been  brought  so  completely  under  Perfetti's  spell, 
that  he  paid  him  a  visit  of  homage  on  the  day  follow- 
ing the  great  improvisator's  exhibition  of  his  art,  their 
acquaintance  "leading  to  a  number  of  other  visits." 
The  Siennese  society  to  which  Goldoni  was  thus  in- 
troduced proved  delightful,  "every  gaming  party  be- 
ing preceded  by  a  literary  conversation";  but  he 
longed  to  see  Tuscany;  therefore  he  left  delectable 


160  GOLDONI 

Sienna  and  fared  to  Volterra,  where  he  crawled  into 
catacombs,  and  "getting  out  finally,  thanks  to  heaven," 
promised  himself  "never  to  return."  He  halted  next 
at  Pisa,  where  he  says  he  intended  to  stay  only  a  few 
days;  yet  he  remained  some  years,4  a  chance  visit  to 
the  local  Arcadian  colony  he  thus  describes  being  re- 
sponsible for  this  complete  alteration  of  his  plans : 

The  first  few  days  after  my  arrival  at  Pisa,  I  amused  myself  by 
seeing  such  curiosities  as  were  worth  while  .  .  .  but  I  began  to 
be  bored,  because  I  knew  nobody.  Strolling  one  day  toward  the 
Castle,  I  saw  a  large  gateway  where  carriages  were  waiting  and 
people  entering.  Glancing  within  I  beheld  a  vast  courtyard  with 
a  garden  at  one  end  in  which  a  number  of  people  were  seated  be- 
neath a  sort  of  bower.  I  approached  nearer  and  seeing  a  man  in 
livery  who  had  the  air  and  graces  of  a  functionary  of  importance, 
I  asked  him  to  whom  the  house  belonged  and  the  reason  why  so 
many  people  were  gathered  there.  This  very  polite  and  fairly 
well-instructed  servant  was  not  long  in  satisfying  my  curiosity. 
"The  assembly  which  you  see,"  he  said,  "is  a  colony  of  the  Roman 
Arcadia,  called  the  Alpheusan  Colony  (Colonia  Alfea)  after  a 
celebrated  Greek  river  that  watered  the  ancient  city  of  Pisa  in 
Elis."  I  asked  if  I  might  enter.  "By  all  means,"  said  the  porter, 
who  accompanied  me  himself  to  the  garden  gate,  where  he  pre- 
sented me  to  a  servant  of  the  academy,  who  gave  me  a  seat  in  the 
assembly.  I  listened,  heard  both  good  and  bad,  and  applauded  all 
equally. 

Everybody  looked  at  me,  and  appeared  anxious  to  know  who  I 
was.  A  wish  to  satisfy  this  curiosity  took  hold  of  me,  so  calling 
the  man  who  had  given  me  my  seat  and  who  happened  to  be  near 
by,  I  begged  him  to  ask  the  chairman  of  the  meeting  whether  a 
stranger  might  be  permitted  to  express  in  verse  the  satisfaction  he 
had  experienced.  The  chairman  announced  my  desire  aloud, 
whereupon  the  meeting  assented. 

I  had  in  mind  a  sonnet  I  had  composed  in  my  youth   for  a 

4  He  reached  Pisa  in  September,   1744,  and  left  in  April,   1748. 


ARCADIA  TO  THALIA'S  SHRINE     161 

similar  occasion.  Quickly  changing  a  few  words,  I  recited  my 
fourteen  lines  in  a  tone  and  with  a  vocal  inflexion  that  gave  zest 
to  both  sentiment  and  rhyme.  The  sonnet  appeared  to  have  been 
composed  on  the  spot  and  was  heartily  applauded.  I  do  not  know 
whether  the  meeting  was  to  have  lasted  longer,  but  everyone  got 
up  and  they  all  crowded  about  me. 

In  th;s  agreeable  way  Goldoni  entered  Arcadia  and 
there  forswore  Thalia  again,  not  for  the  worship  of 
Pan  and  Artemis,  deities  of  that  pastoral  land,  but  to 
bow  once  more  to  Themis,  goddess  of  the  law;  for 
when  the  shepherds  of  the  Alpheusan  colony  learned 
that  he  was  a  briefless  Venetian  barrister,  they  begged 
him  to  resume  his  legal  gown,  promising  him  the 
meanwhile  "both  clients  and  books."  Any  foreign 
licentiate  being  able,  as  he  was  assured,  to  practise  at 
the  Pisan  bar,  he  was  persuaded  "to  become  a  civil 
and  criminal  advocate,"  and  the  Pisans  being  "as  good 
as  their  word,"  he  soon  had  "more  causes  than  he 
could  undertake,"  most  of  which  he  wisely  endeav- 
oured to  settle  out  of  court  by  "demonstrating  the  folly 
of  litigation." 

But  "the  devil,"  as  he  declares,  "sent  a  theatrical 
company  to  Pisa."  "Its  actors  were  too  bad"  for  him 
to  think  of  entrusting  a  character  comedy  to  their 
tender  mercies,  yet  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
of  letting  them  perform  The  Hundred  and  Four  Mis- 
haps in  a  Single  Night,  the  improvised  comedy  Imer's 
comedians  had  played  successfully  about  five  years 
before.  Hearing  a  Pisan  citizen  in  a  coffee-house 
calling  on  heaven  the  next  day  "to  preserve  him  from 


i62  GOLDONI 

the  toothache  and  a  hundred  and  four  mishaps," 
Goldoni  became  so  mortified  that  he  resolved  "not  to 
go  near  the  comedians  again  or  think  of  comedy"; 
therefore  he  "redoubled  his  juridical  ardour,  and  won 
three  lawsuits  within  the  month,"  from  one  of  which, 
a  criminal  case,  he  "derived  infinite  honour." 

This  last  concerned  the  fate  of  a  young  man  of  good 
family  who  had  forced  the  lock  of  a  neighbour's  door 
and  had  robbed  him.  He  was  an  only  son,  it  appears, 
and  his  sisters  were  unmarried,  circumstances  that  in- 
spired our  lawyer  to  save  him  from  the  galleys. 
After  "satisfying  the  complaining  party,"  he  changed 
the  lock  on  his  door  so  that  the  key  of  his  client's 
room  would  fit  it.  Thus  he  made  it  appear  that  the 
defendant,  after  entering  the  apartment  he  had 
robbed,  by  mistake  instead  of  deliberately,  had  been 
suddenly  tempted  by  money  he  saw  spread  out  before 
him;  a  ruse  whereby  the  court  was  induced  to  impose 
a  short  term  in  jail,  instead  of  the  dreaded  sentence 
to  the  galleys. 

The  culprit's  family  was  "very  well  satisfied"  with 
him,  Goldoni  assures  us,  "and  the  criminal  judge  com- 
plimented him."  Again  he  had  begun  auspiciously 
the  practice  of  the  law.  At  Pisa  there  were,  however, 
no  rich  old  maids  or  bewitching  nieces  to  ensnare 
him;  yet  he  was  enticed  from  legal  paths  by  his  old 
friend,  the  comedian  Sacchi,  who  wrote  him  for  a 
comedy.  Working  "by  day  at  the  bar  and  by  night 
at  his  play,"  he  finished  The  Servant  of  Two  Masters 
and  despatched  it  to  Venice,  closing  his  door  the 


ARCADIA  TO  THALIA'S  SHRINE     163 

meanwhile  at  nightfall  and  going  no  more  to  the  Ar- 
cadians' coffee-house.  When  he  returned  to  the 
pastoral  fold,  he  was  "reproached  for  his  neglect  of 
poetry,"  but  given  nevertheless  by  the  Custode  of  the 
Alpheusan  Colony  a  diploma  of  full  Arcadian  mem- 
bership, issued  by  the  parent  academy  in  Rome. 
Polisseno  Fegeio  was  the  bucolic  name  bestowed 
upon  him  and  he  was  invested  with  the  Phegeian 
Fields.  "We  Arcadians,"  he  exclaims,  "are  rich,  as 
you  may  perceive,  dear  reader.  We  possess  lands  in 
Greece:  we  water  them  with  the  sweat  of  our  brows 
in  order  that  we  may  gather  laurel  branches,  but  the 
Turks  sow  them  with  grain  and  plant  them  with 
vines,  and  they  laugh  at  both  our  titles  and  our 
songs." 

Although  by  his  own  confession  he  was  "never  a 
good  poet,"  he  continued  to  write  "sonnets,  odes,  and 
other  pieces  of  lyricism"  for  the  meetings  of  the 
academy.  In  the  meantime,  Sacchi,  who  sent  him  a 
present  which  he  says  he  did  not  expect,  de- 
manded another  comedy,  and  he  had  no  peace 
of  mind  until  he  had  despatched  to  Venice  the 
play 5  the  Parisian  success  of  which,  seventeen  years 
later,  inspired  the  Italian  actors  of  the  French  capital 
to  offer  him  a  professional  engagement. 

His  intention  in  all  probability  was  to  settle  per- 
manently in  Pisa,  practising  law,  making  professional 
trips  to  Florence  or  Lucca,  and  satisfying  his  natural 
desires  now  and  then  by  writing  occasional  comedies 

5  //  Figlio  d'Arlecchino  perduto  e  ritrovato. 


1 64  GOLDONI 

or  sonnets  to  be  read  before  the  meetings  of  the  local 
Arcadians.  He  had  "causes  in  every  court  and  clients 
in  every  rank  of  life,"  he  assures  us,  and  he  thought 
"the  whole  town  was  for  him,"  until  seeking  govern- 
mental preferment,  he  learned  that  although  he  had 
"become  naturalized  in  the  hearts  of  individuals,  in 
the  opinion  of  the  community  he  was  still  an  alien." 
In  the  hope  of  getting  at  least  some  of  the  "oil,  corn, 
and  money  they  brought,"  he  sought  all  the  sinecures 
a  late  Pisan  lawyer  had  enjoyed  as  the  attorney  of 
several  religious  bodies,  but  obtained  none  of  them, 
because,  so  he  says,  he  had  been  in  Pisa  but  two  years 
and  a  half,  whereas  his  competitors  had  "for  four 
years  at  least  been  taking  steps  to  succeed  the  de- 
ceased." 

"Out  of  twenty  posts,"  he  laments,  "not  one  for  me!" 
This  was  a  disappointment  that  made  him  look  upon 
his  profession  as  a  "casual  and  precarious  manner  of 
obtaining  a  livelihood."  Whilst  in  this  morose  mood 
his  chamber  was  invaded  one  morning  by  a  stranger 
whose  glib  tongue  fatefully  turned  the  course  of  his 
life  into  its  natural  channel  and  made  the  obtaining 
of  his  livelihood  indeed  precarious.  His  own  words 
shall  describe  this  propitious  meeting: 

One  day  when  I  was  very  deep  in  thought,  a  stranger  who 
wished  to  speak  to  me  was  announced.  I  saw  crossing  the  hall  a 
man  nearly  six  feet  in  height  and  proportionally  large  and  fat,  who 
had  in  his  hand  a  cane  and  a  round  hat  of  English  shape. 

He  entered  my  office  with  measured  steps.  I  arose.  Making  a 
picturesque  gesture  by  way  of  telling  me  not  to  disturb  myself, 


ARCADIA  TO  THALIA'S  SHRINE     165 

he  approached.  I  asked  him  to  be  seated.  This  is  our  conversa- 
tion: 

"Sir,"  he  said,  "I  have  not  the  honour  of  being  known  by  you, 
but  you  probably  know  my  father  and  uncle  in  Venice ;  I  am  your 
very  humble  servant  Darbes  (sic)."Q 

"What !  Monsieur  Darbes,  son  of  the  postmaster  at  Friuli,  the 
lad  believed  to  be  lost,  who  was  searched  for  so  much,  and  mourned 
for  so  greatly?" 

"Yes,  sir,  that  prodigal  son,  who  has  not  yet  fallen  on  his  knees 
before  his  father." 

"Why  do  you  postpone  giving  him  that  consolation?" 

"My  family,  my  relatives,  or  my  country  will  never  see  me  ex- 
cept crowned  with  laurels." 

"What  is  your  calling,  sir?" 

Arising,  he  patted  his  rotundity,  and  in  a  tone  of  pride  mingled 
with  facetiousness,  said:  "Sir,  I  am  an  actor." 

"Every  talent,"  said  I,  "is  estimable,  provided  the  possessor  is 
able  to  distinguish  himself." 

"I  am,"  he  answered,  "the  Pantaloon  of  a  troupe  now  at  Leg- 
horn. I  am  not  the  most  inconspicuous  of  my  comrades,  and  the 
public  is  not  loath  to  crowd  to  the  plays  in  which  my  character  ap- 
pears. Medebac,  our  manager,  travelled  a  long  way  to  unearth 
me;  I  do  not  dishonour  my  relatives,  my  country,  or  my  pro- 
fession, and,  sir,  without  boasting  (slapping  his  belly  once  more), 
Garelli 7  is  dead ;  Darbes  has  taken  his  place." 

I  intended  to  compliment  him,  but  he  threw  himself  into  a 
comic  attitude  that  made  me  burst  into  laughter,  and  so  prevented 
me  from  continuing. 

"It  is  not  through  vainglory,"  he  proceeded,  "that  I  have  paraded 
the  advantages  I  enjoy  in  my  profession.  But  I  am  an  actor  and  I 
make  myself  known  to  an  author  of  whom  I  have  need." 

"You  have  need  of  me?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  know  you  by  reputation:  you  are  as  courteous  as 
you  are  skilful,  and  you  will  not  refuse." 

6  Cesare  D'Arbes,  born  in  Venice  about  1710,  died  in  that  city  in  1778. 
"The  greatest  Pantaloon  of  his  time,"  says  Luigi  Rasi    (op.  cit.). 

7  A  Venetian  Pantaloon,  known  as  //  Pantalone  eloquente,  who  died  in 
1740. 


1 66  GOLDONI 

"I  have  work  to  do;  I  can't  manage  it." 

"I  respect  your  work;  you  may  write  the  play  at  your  leisure, 
when  the  spirit  moves  you." 

Seizing  my  snuff-box  while  he  was  talking,  and  taking  a  pinch 
of  snuff,  he  dropped  a  few  gold  ducats  into  it,  and  closing  it,  he 
threw  it  on  the  table  with  one  of  those  pieces  of  stage  business 
that  seem  to  hide  the  very  thing  you  would  be  glad  to  have  dis- 
covered. Not  wishing  to  lend  myself  to  such  a  jest,  I  opened  my 
snuff-box. 

"Pray,  don't  be  angry,"  he  said ;  "it  is  merely  a  payment  on  ac- 
count for  the  paper." 

I  tried  to  give  him  back  his  money,  but  posturing  and  bowing,  he 
got  up,  backed  himself  toward  the  door  and  went  out. 

After  asking  himself  what  should  be  done  under 
the  circumstances,  Goldoni  took  what  seemed  to  him 
"the  better,"  and  to  us,  the  more  pleasing  course  in 
that  he  informed  D'Arbes  that  he  would  write  the 
play  desired.  The  Pantaloon  replied  that  "a 
comedy  by  Goldoni  would  be  the  sword  and  buckler 
with  which  he  would  challenge  all  the  theatres  of 
the  world."  He  had  bet  a  hundred  gold  ducats  with 
his  manager,  he  said,  that  he  would  obtain  a  comedy 
by  Goldoni  and  he  concluded  a  fulsome  letter  by  say- 
ing that  he  wished  his  role  to  be  that  of  ua  young 
man  without  a  mask  drawn  in  the  manner  of  the 
principal  character  of  an  old  art  comedy,  called 
Pantaloon,  a  Fop  (Pantalon  Paroncin).  In  accord- 
ance with  this  suggestion  Goldini  penned  "within 
three  weeks"  Elegant  Anthony  (Tonin  bella  grazia), 
and  carried  the  manuscript  to  Leghorn  himself.8 

8  Saverio  Francesco  Bartoli,  a  contemporary  Thespian,  known  as  the 
Actor's  Plutarch,  published  at  Padua  in  1782  a  work  entitled  Notizie 


ARCADIA  TO  THALIA'S  SHRINE     167 

There  he  read  it  to  D'Arbes  who  "appeared  well 
satisfied,  and  with  many  ceremonies,  bows,  and  in- 
terrupted words"  he  gave  our  author  the  amount  of 
the  bet  he  had  won  from  his  manager,  whereupon 
"in  order  to  avoid  receiving  thanks,"  he  fled  under 
the  pretext  of  showing  the  new  comedy  to  the  latter. 

While  Goldoni  was  awaiting  dinner  in  his  lonely 
room  at  an  inn,  Medebac,9  the  manager,  called,  ac- 
companied by  D'Arbes  and,  after  "overwhelming 
him  with  politeness,"  invited  him  to  dine.  His  soup 
being  served,  the  dramatist  declined,  but  D'Arbes 
and  Medebac  dragged  him  away,  and  on  the  man- 
ager's threshold  they  were  met  by  Madame  Mede- 
bac, "a  young,  pretty,  and  well-built  actress,"  whom 
Goldoni  found  "as  estimable  in  manners  as  in  talent." 

After  "a  very  respectable  family  dinner  served 
with  the  utmost  order  and  neatness,"  he  was  taken  to 
the  theatre,  where  out  of  compliment  to  him  Griselda 

istorlche  de'  comici  italiani,  che  fiorirono  intorno  all'  anno  MDL  fino 
a'  giorni  presenti,  in  which  is  presented  a  hitherto  unpublished  sonnet 
by  Goldoni,  as  well  as  a  letter  written  by  him  to  Cesare  D'Arbes  at 
Leghorn  and  dated  at  Pisa,  August  13,  1745.  In  this  letter  Goldoni 
says  that  the  new  comedy  (manifestly  Elegant  Anthony]  "is  not  yet 
clear  of  the  meteors  that  surround  it,"  while  he  asks  to  be  remembered 
to  Medebac,  manager  of  the  troupe  in  which  D'Arbes  was  playing.  As 
Goldoni  states  in  his  Memoirs  that  he  had  been  in  Pisa  two  years  and 
a  half  at  the  time  he  asked  for  the  sinecures  of  the  dead  Pisan  advocate 
(or  March,  1747),  and  as  he  places  D'Arbes's  visit  to  him  subsequent  to 
that  event,  the  date  of  the  letter  to  that  actor  is  manifestly  a  misprint 
for  1747.  See  Vol.  II,  edition  of  the  Municipality  of  Venice. 

9  Girolamo  Medebac  (or  Medebach,  originally  Metembach),  born  at 
Rome,  about  1706,  died  subsequently  to  Dec.  1781,  when  Bartoli  recorded 
that  "he  was  not  far  from  his  ninetieth  year,  and  in  enviable  health." 
L.  Rasi  (op.  cit.)  accords  him  the  distinction  of  being  "the  greatest  man- 
ager of  the  XVIIIth  century,  a  large  part,  if  not  all,  of  his  celebrity  being 
due  to  the  artistic  bonds  that  united  him  to  Carlo  Goldoni." 


1 68  GOLDONI 

was  substituted  for  the  improvised  comedy  that  had 
been  announced.  This  play  "was  not  entirely  his 
work,"  he  confesses ;  nevertheless  "his  self-love  was 
flattered."  He  was  "better  pleased,"  however,  on 
the  following  day  when  The  Clever  Woman,  "hither- 
to his  favourite  comedy,"  was  presented.  Although 
he  had  written  this  play  before  his  departure  from 
Venice,  he  had  never  seen  it  played.  It  was  "a 
pleasure,"  he  acknowledges,  "to  see  it  so  well  per- 
formed," and  he  complimented  Madame  Medebac 
and  her  husband  upon  their  acting,  "the  natural 
sweetness"  of  the  former,  "her  pathetic  voice,  her 
intelligence,  and  her  histrionism"  raising  her  in  his 
estimation  "above  all  the  actresses  he  had  ever 
known." 

A  few  days  after  his  vanity  had  been  thus  doubly 
flattered,  Medebac,  to  whom  he  had  confided  his 
"mortifying  experiences  in  Pisa,"  made  him  the 
dramaturgic  offer  that  brought  him  back  to  Thalia's 
shrine,  there  to  remain  a  constant  votary  throughout 
his  days.  Medebac  proposed  leasing  a  theatre  in 
Venice  for  a  term  of  five  or  six  years,  provided  that 
Goldoni  would  contract  to  serve  as  its  playwright 
during  a  like  period.  "It  required  no  great  effort 
to  turn  him  toward  comedy,"  says  the  latter;  so  a 
provisional  contract  was  forthwith  drawn  up.  But 
good  Nicoletta  had  gone  to  Genoa  to  visit  her 
family,  and  though  "he  knew  her  docility,  Goldoni 
owed  her,"  he  assures  us,  "both  esteem  and 
friendship,"  wherefore  he  returned  to  Pisa  to 


ARCADIA  TO  THALIA'S  SHRINE     169 

await  her  arrival  and  approval  before  sending 
his  signature  to  Leghorn.10  This  he  did  in  Sep- 
tember, I747,11  although  he  did  not  join  Mede- 
bac's  forces  until  April  of  the  following  year, 
six  months'  time  having  been  given  him  in  which  to 
arrange  his  affairs.  His  muse  and  his  pen  were 
again  at  the  disposal  of  an  individual.  "A  French 
author,"  he  confesses,  "would  think  it  a  singular  en- 
gagement for  a  man  of  letters,  who  ought  to  enjoy 
liberty,"  but  in  Italy  there  were  "no  court  pensions 
and  royal  gifts,"  therefore  he  was  content  with  his 
lot,  for  "his  plays  were  to  be  accepted  without  being 
read,  and  paid  for  in  advance." 

Before  leaving  Tuscany,  he  revisited  Florence, 
and  there,  at  a  seance  of  the  Arcadian  colony,  known 
as  The  Academy  of  the  Apathists,  he  witnessed  an 
absurd  literary  rite  which  consisted  in  propounding 
abstruse  questions  to  a  child  of  ten,  called  a  Sibillone, 
or  great  Sibyl.  As  the  infant  oracle  was  required  to 
reply  by  a  single  word,  the  answers,  as  may  readily 
be  imagined,  were  usually  devoid  of  sense;  there- 
fore an  academician  was  appointed  to  interpret  them, 
a  task  requiring  considerable  discursive  agility.  On 
the  occasion  of  Goldoni's  visit,  the  question  asked 
was:  "Why  do  women  weep  more  readily  than 

10  L.  T.  Belgrano  suggests  that  Goldoni  went  to  Genoa  at  this  time, 
a   supposition   founded  on   Goldoni's   statement  in  his  dedication  of  La 
Donna  sola  to  Agostino  Connio  to  the  effect  that  he  had  seen  his  father- 
in-law   twice.     This   is   merely   a   guess,    however,    like   the   surmise   of 
Von    Lohner   that    Goldoni    sent   his   signature   to   Venice   instead   of   to 
Leghorn. 

11  In  his  memoirs  Goldoni  says  1746,  but  this  is  more  veneto. 


170  GOLDONI 

men?"  and  the  "great  Sibyl's"  answer  was  the  mean- 
ingless word  "straws.""  Yet  a  lusty  abbe  discoursed 
at  length  to  demonstrate  that  "nothing  could  have 
been  more  decisive  or  satisfactory"  than  the  oracle's 
answer,  the  trend  of  his  argument  being  that  as  straw 
is  the  most  frail  of  plant  substances,  and  woman  more 
frail  than  man,  frailty  is  the  cause  of  woman's  tears. 

To  what  precious  depths  had  Arcadia  sunkl 
Yet,  sane  Goldoni  was  gulled  to  a  considerable  de- 
gree by  this  hocus-pocus,  for  he  avers  that  "to  dis- 
play more  erudition  and  precision  in  a  matter  that 
seemed  so  insusceptible  of  it,  was  quite  impossible. 
Luckily  his  trunks  had  reached  the  Florentine  cus- 
tom-house ;  therefore  he  was  able  to  escape  from  this 
Arcadian  fool-trap  before  its  vapid  air  had  entirely 
vitiated  his  inborn  common  sense. 

Proceeding  to  Mantua,  he  joined  Medebac  there 
and  with  faithful  Nicoletta  passed  a  month  "com- 
fortably lodged"  in  the  house  of  a  retired  soubrette, 
who  fortunately  for  his  peace  of  mind  had  reached 
the  age  of  eighty- five.  The  climate  of  marshy  Man- 
tua, however,  did  not  agree  with  him,  and  his  time 
was  passed  mostly  in  bed.  He  managed  neverthe- 
less to  finish  a  couple  of  comedies  "with  which 
Medebac  appeared  satisfied,"  whereupon  he  was  "per- 
mitted to  go  to  Modena,"  where  he  passed  the  sum- 
mer. "Toward  the  end  of  July"  Medebac  and  his 
troupe  arrived  in  Modena  and  Goldoni  gave  him 
a  third  comedy.12  In  September  in  company  with 

12  Possibly,  as  Carlo  Borghi  suggests,  La  Vedova  scaltra. 


ARCADIA  TO  THALIA'S  SHRINE     171 

an  untried  aggregation  of  actors  he  reached  Venice 
to  tempt  metropolitan  fate  in  the  Teatro  Sant'  An- 
gelo,  the  playhouse  Medebac  had  leased. 

He  had  been  away  from  the  campielli  and  the 
canals  of  his  beloved  birthplace  for  five  long  years, 
and  he  found  "a  great  satisfaction"  in  returning  to 
"the  land  that  had  always  been  dear  to  him."  His 
doting  mother  who,  despite  his  vagabondizing,  "had 
never  complained  of  him,"  dwelt  with  her  sister  in 
the  Court  of  St.  George,  near  Saint  Mark's,13  and 
there  he  and  good  Nicoletta  went  to  live.  While 
he  is  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  this  domestic  peace, 
let  us  take  a  glimpse  of  the  theatrical  world  of  Ven- 
ice, to  which  he  had  returned  a  better  and  more  val- 
iant dramatist  than  he  was  when  Giuseppe  Imer 
had  been  his  manager  and  the  San  Samuele  the  scene 
of  his  prentice  endeavours. 

Whenever  an  ox-drawn  chariot  of  Thespis  lumbered 
into  Mestre  or  Fusina  after  its  summer  tour  on  terra 
firma,  and  the  wan  actresses  huddled  beneath  its 
canvas  awning  saw  the  campanile  of  St.  Mark's  and 
other  graceful  towers  they  loved  outlined  against  the 
autumn  sky,  they  knew  that  rest  and  joy  were  close 
at  hand,  for  Venice  was  the  players'  paradise;  its 
horizon,  in  the  apt  words  of  Philippe  Monnier, 
"seeming  to  be  bounded  by  footlights,  a  sky  border, 
and  a  prompter's  box."  14  Too  light-hearted  to  read, 
its  people  made  plays  their  literature,  and,  after  their 

13  San  Giorgio  de'  Greci,  much  nearer  to  St.  Mark's  than  San  Giorgio 
degli  Schiavoni:  Guido  Mazzoni,  Memorie  di  Carlo  Goldoni. 

14  Venue  au  XVllle  siecle. 


1 72  GOLDONI 

carnival  pranks,  their  chief  diversion.  New  plays 
were  public  events,  the  merits  of  rival  dramatists  a 
matter  for  general  debate  and  even  altercation;  for 
when,  as  will  be  seen,  Goldoni  and  the  Abate  Chiari 
became  rivals,  all  Venice,  from  patrician  to  gondo- 
lier, from  great  lady  to  handmaid,  gestured  and 
shrilled  their  predilections,  whilst  critics  spoiled 
more  perfectly  good  paper  than  was  wasted  when 
the  pedants  of  France  were  yelping  at  the  heels  of 
Moliere. 

The  Venetian  stage,  as  an  organized  entity,  dates 
from  the  sixteenth  century,  at  the  beginning  of  which 
Thalia  came  to  the  city  of  lagoons  and  drove  the  re- 
ligious plays  and  the  tragedies  of  the  pedants  from 
that  lightsome  town.15  But  there  were  no  permanent 
playhouses  then,  trestles  for  a  performance  being 
placed  either  in  the  piazza  or  the  palace  of  some 
rich  Morosini,  Trevisan,  or  Mocenigo.  In  1527 
Francesco  Cherea,  a  favourite  of  Pope  Leo  X,  who 
had  escaped  from  Rome  during  the  sack,  produced 
Latin  comedies  in  Venice,  as  well  as  some  which  he 
had  written  himself ;  and  at  about  the  same  time  An- 
gelo  Beolco,  who  was  known  as  //  Ruzzante,  crossed 
the  lagoons  from  Padua,  his  birthplace,  with  dialect 
farces  which  he  and  his  masked  comrades  performed 
in  patrician  halls  so  excellently  that  he  was  styled 
the  new  Roscius.16 

15  A  decree  of  the  Signoria,  Dec.  29,  1509,  indicates  that  comedy 
had  begun  to  be  performed  in  Venice  only  a  short  time  previously. 
D'Ancona:  op.  cit. 

16Pompeo   Molmenti:  La  Storia   di   Venezia   nella  vita  'privata. 


ARCADIA  TO  THALIA'S  SHRINE     173 

Although  Palladio  built  in  1565  a  wooden  thea- 
tre at  Venice,  fourteen  years  before  he  began  at  Vi- 
cenza  the  construction  of  the  Teatro  Olimpico,  it 
was  only  a  temporary  affair,  the  first  permanent 
Venetian  playhouse  not  being  constructed  until  this 
great  architect  had  been  dead  fully  a  quarter  of  a 
century.17  During  the  generations  that  followed 
Beolco  and  Palladio,  play-giving  and  theatre-build- 
ing flourished  so  congenially  in  Venice  that  when 
Goldoni  reached  the  city  with  Medebac's  troupe, 
seven  regular  playhouses — more  than  obtained  in 
Paris  then  and  more  than  are  to  be  found  in  Venice 
now — were  in  operation.  Each  was  named  after  the 
titular  saint  of  the  parish  in  which  it  was  situated, 
that  of  San  Cassiano  being  the  oldest,  although  the 
San  Giovanni  Crisostomo,  where  the  lyrical  tra- 
gedies of  Metastasio  and  Zeno  were  given,  was  the 
most  important  of  the  playhouses  named  by  Gol- 
doni in  his  memoirs.18  Three  of  these  were  devoted 
to  comedy  and  at  each  of  them  he  was  in  turn  em- 
ployed, first  at  the  San  Samuele  when  Imer  was  his 
manager,  then  at  the  Sant'  Angelo  under  Medebac, 
and  finally  at  the  San  Luca,  the  property  of  two 

17  Palladio    died    in    1580.     The    San    Cassiano,    oldest    of    Venetian 
theatres,  was  built  early  in  the  seventeenth  century  and  rebuilt  in  1637, 
after  its  destruction  by  fire.     Pompeo  Molmenti:  op.  cit. 

18  Goldoni  says:    "In  Italy  the  playhouses   (salles  de  spectacles}    are 
called  theatres  and  in  Venice  there  are  seven,  each  bearing  the  name 
of  the  titular  saint  of  its  parish."     Apparently  he  refers  only  to  theatres 
regularly  operated  throughout  the  theatrical  season  by  professional  com- 
panies, as  there  were  at  that  time  fully  fourteen  theatres  in  Venice  of 
one  sort  or  another,  the  number  in  the  previous  century  having  totalled 
eighteen.    P.  Molmenti:  op.  cit. 


i74  GOLDONI 

brothers  named  Vendramin,  where  his  Venetian  the- 
atrical career  terminated.19 

These  Venetian  theatres  were  owned  by  wealthy  pa- 
tricians, who  retained  the  receipts  of  the  boxes,  which, 
like  the  opera  boxes  of  to-day,  were  rented  for  the 
season.  A  ticket  to  a  box  did  not  include  admission 
to  the  house,  a  box-holder  being  required  to  pay  the 
entrance  fee,  which,  according  to  Goldoni,  "never 
exceeded  the  value  of  a  Roman  paolo,  or  ten  French 
sous."  20  "As  the  daily  receipts  could  not  be  large," 
he  continues,  "they  were  not  worth  being  run  after 
by  a  playwright";  yet  the  Venetian  theatres  were 
commodious,  the  San  Luca,  for  instance,  being  so 
vast  that  in  it  "natural  or  delicate  movements,  the 
subtleties,  the  pleasantries,  in  a  word,  true  comedy, 
lost  greatly."  Indeed,  in  both  size  and  construction 
these  theatres  resembled  the  continental  opera-house 
of  the  present  day,  old  engravings  of  the  San  Gio- 
vanni Crisostomo  and  of  the  San  Samuele  showing 
them  to  have  possessed  large,  deep  stages,  orchestra 
pits,  and  five  tiers  of  encircling  boxes,  some  of  which 
were  placed  upon  the  stage,  like  the  avant-scenes  at 
the  Paris  opera. 

Beginning  early  in  October,  the  theatrical  season 

19  The   two    remaining    playhouses    referred    to    by    Goldoni,    are    the 
San  Benedetto  and  the   San  Moise,  at  the  latter  of  which  many  of  his 
musical  plays  were  performed.     With  the  former  he  seems  to  have  had 
no  connection. 

20  According  to  P.  Molmenti,  "In  the  beginning  the  price  of  a  ticket 
to  the  theatre  was  four  lire,  corresponding  to  about  two  lire  in  our  day, 
and  then,  in  1647,  it  went  down  to  a  fourth  of  a  ducat,  or  about  80  cen- 
tesimi   of   our   day."     In    Goldoni's    day,    therefore,   the   price   had    gone 
down  still  more. 


ARCADIA  TO  THALIA'S  SHRINE     175 

continued  until  the  novena  of  Christmas.  On 
December  26  began  the  Winter  or  Carnival  season, 
which  lasted  until  Ash  Wednesday,  when  the  theatres 
were  closed.  During  the  two  weeks  of  the  feast  of 
Ascension  the  theatres  were  opened  again  and  there 
was  a  short  season  of  plays  and  operas,  but  when 
spring  appeared,  the  theatrical  companies  betook 
themselves  to  terra  firma,  there  to  tour  until  the  chill 
of  autumn  brought  the  world  of  fashion  back  to 
Venice  after  its  villeggiatura  on  the  banks  of  the 
Brenta. 

With  the  apparent  intention  of  permitting  play 
lovers  to  attend  several  performances  on  the  same 
day,  the  Venetian  theatres  opened  at  different  hours. 
These  performances,  however,  were  not  seemly 
events,  such  as  we  are  accustomed  to  in  our  modern 
playhouses.  The  boxes  were  the  scene  of  frivolity 
and  amours.  Many  of  their  occupants  wore  masks, 
and  sometimes  carnival  costumes  of  indecent  scanti- 
ness ;  indeed,  in  the  words  of  an  Italian  writer,  "al- 
most every  box  was  a  temple  of  Venus."  21  In  them 
the  fashionable  world  met,  or  young  men  of  wealth 
flaunted  their  mistresses  boldly  in  the  public  gaze. 
They  belonged  to  the  owners  of  the  theatre  and  were 
let  by  them  for  the  season  to  fellow-patricians.  Be- 
sides being  lovers'  trysts,  they  were  the  rendezvous 
of  groups  of  intimate  friends,  who  gossiped  and 
flirted  while  pelting  the  hoi-polloi  in  the  pit  below 
with  oranges,  or  even  spitting  upon  them. 

21  Vittorio  Malamani :  //  Settecento  a  Fenezia. 


I76  GOLDONI 

As  in  the  case  of  Moliere's  parterre,  the  denizens 
of  Goldoni's  pit  were  a  various  rabble,  who  ap- 
plauded and  hissed  at  will  or  rent  the  fetid  air  with 
coarse  laughter  and  catcalls,  while  the  patricians 
above  them  giggled,  sneezed,  and  yawned.  The 
benches  were  of  wood,  well  polished  with  use,  and 
they  were  scorned  by  ladies,  though  women  of  the 
people  occupied  them.  During  the  entr'actes  a 
ticket-taker  with  a  candle-end  in  hand  passed  among 
them,  collecting  the  modest  price  of  the  seats.  No 
places  were  reserved  for  civil  or  military  function- 
aries, no  soldiers  were  on  guard,  nor  policemen 
either,  save  an  occasional  catch-poll  (sbirro)  in  civil 
attire,  who  intervened  only  when  force  was  indispen- 
sable. At  a  popular  play  the  gondoliers,  who  ordi- 
narily were  admitted  to  the  pit,  were  forced  to  wait 
outside  the  theatre,  since  long  before  the  performance 
began,  the  seats  were  filled  by  servants  holding  them 
for  their  masters,  or  by  speculators  ready  to  sell  them 
at  a  profit.  An  hour  before  the  performance  two 
wretched  candles  were  lighted.  No  lights  glowed 
in  the  auditorium  even  after  the  curtain  rose,  except 
an  occasional  candle  in  the  region  of  the  upper  boxes 
or  the  smudging  tallow  dips  of  the  musicians. 

Between  the  acts  girls  with  baskets  on  their  arms 
passed  between  the  rows  of  benches  selling  oranges, 
anisette,  cakes,  fritters,  and  chestnuts,  while  in  the 
boxes  coffee  and  ices  were  served.  "At  six  or  seven 
paces  from  the  entrance  to  the  pit,"  its  classic  mis- 
siles, baked  apples  and  pears,  were  sold,  although  the 


ARCADIA  TO  THALIA'S  SHRINE     177 

actor  who  won  its  favour  had  little  to  fear  from  its 
wrath,  since  he  enjoyed  in  the  affections  of  the  public 
the  same  unmerited  ascendency  over  the  dramatist 
that  is  held  by  his  modern  compeer,  the  matinee  idol. 
Though  the  authorities  proclaimed  him  to  be  "a  per- 
son detested  of  God,"  the  popular  actor  was  received 
familiarly  in  patrician  households,  and  when  he  ap- 
peared on  the  stage  he  was  greeted  by  such  affection- 
ate cries  as:  "Blessed  be  thou!  Blessed  be  he  who 
fathered  thee!"  or  "Darling,  I  throw  myself  at  thy 
feet!"  In  his  wake  swarmed  his  cronies,  all  of  whom 
were  dead-heads  and  some  of  whom  "got  in  his  way 
on  the  stage,  only  to  speak  ill  of  the  play."  At  the 
end  of  the  performance,  it  was  the  privilege  of  a 
popular  actor  to  announce  the  next  play,  but  if  the 
one  that  had  first  been  given  happened  to  have 
pleased  the  audience,  his  voice  was  drowned  by  cries 
of  "the  same,  give  us  the  same!"  Upon  the  first  and 
the  last  night  of  the  season  a  favourite  actress  would 
recite  to  the  audience  complimentary  verses ;  but  not 
until  Goldoni  had  ceased  to  write  for  the  Venetian 
stage  was  it  customary  for  the  mere  author  to  appear 
before  the  curtain  in  response  to  applause.22 

Although  Metastasio's  music-tragedies  had,  like 
our  modern  opera,  become  fashionable,  improvised 
comedies  occupied  the  purely  histrionic  boards  to  a 
far  greater  degree  than  plays  serious  in  tone,  the 
pranks  of  Arlecchino  being  more  congenial  to  the 
mirth-seeking,  laughter-loving  Venetian  than  trag- 

22  P.  Molmenti:  op.  cit. 


178  GOLDONI 

edy  or  tragi-comedy.  Indeed,  once  when  a  worthy 
abate  had  the  temerity  to  present  a  tragedy  23  replete 
with  scenes  of  horror  and  calamity,  the  audience  fled, 
creating  a  fiasco  that  was  waggishly  parodied  in  a 
tragic  farce,  wherein  after  all  the  characters  had  gone 
off  to  battle,  the  prompter  appeared,  to  tell  the  ex- 
pectant audience  that  it  would  wait  in  vain  for  the 
play  to  continue,  because  all  the  characters  had  been 
killed. 

But  it  was  a  decadent  Improvised  Comedy  that 
reigned  in  Venice  during  the  first  half  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century.  Novelty  was  the  one  essential, 
and  when  the  vivacious  Italian  plots  were  ex- 
hausted, Greece  and  Rome,  myth  and  legend,  were 
ransacked,  as  well  as  the  cloak-and-sword  drama  of 
Spain,  for  novel  subjects  to  exploit.  It  mattered  not 
that  ^Eneas  became  a  Captain  Fracasso  and  Mene- 
laus  a  Pantaloon,  so  long  as  a  plot  new  to  the  Vene- 
tian stage  was  presented  with  points  sufficient  for  the 
actors  to  hang  their  lazzl  upon.  Indeed,  the  comedy 
of  that  day  might  be  likened  to  a  kaleidoscope  in 
which  the  sword  of  Fracasso,  the  guitar  of  Scara- 
muccia,  the  slap-stick  of  Arlecchino,  the  spectacles 
of  Tartaglia,  the  red  trousers  of  Pantalone,  the 
plumed  cap  of  Coviello,  and  the  wine-stains  of  II 
Dottore  were  ever  shifting  into  fatuous  combina- 
tions, whereby  the  mimes  who  wore  or  bore  them, 
might  call  forth  laughter  from  a  laughter-loving  peo- 
ple. In  Philippe  Monnier's 24  pleasing  hyperbole, 

23  Ulisse  il  Giovane,  by  the  Abate  Lazzarini.  24  Op.  cit. 


ARCADIA  TO  THALIA'S  SHRINE     179 

these  nimble  adepts  in  buffoonery  were  "marvellous 
artists  of  laughter,  sowers  of  divine  Gaiety's  golden 
seed,  servants  of  the  unforeseen,  and  kings  of  god- 
send." Shorn  of  the  exaggeration,  they  may  safely 
be  acclaimed  as  first-rate  actors,  skilled  in  developing 
their  roles  from  a  scribbled  scenario  that  hung  in  the 
wings;  for  with  a  zibaldone  of  familiar  proverbs, 
quips,  sallies,  songs,  and  cock-and-bull  stories  to  draw 
upon,  they  invented  dialogue  that  would  keep  a  play 
"moving  at  a  hellish  rate." 

Cesare  D'Arbes,  the  buffoon  responsible  for  Gol- 
doni's  return  to  his  calling,  was  "an  admirable  come- 
dian," whose  acting  of  the  role  of  Pantalone  was  "in- 
comparable" ;  therefore,  since  Teodora  Medebac,  an 
actress  "estimable  above  all  others  whom  he  knew," 
was  also  a  member  of  the  troupe  with  which  he  jour- 
neyed to  Venice  in  the  autumn  of  1748,  he  had 
worthy  histrionic  material  with  which  to  present  his 
comedies. 

He  found  the  Venetian  stage  in  the  condition  that 
has  just  been  outlined.  Being  "strangers  and  new- 
comers," Medebac's  troupe  "were  obliged,"  he  says, 
"to  struggle  against  experienced  rivals,"  and  they 
"had  great  difficulty  in  obtaining  protectors  and 
friends."  The  Teatro  Sant'  Angelo,  however,  which 
the  manager  had  leased,  was  "a  playhouse  less  fa- 
tiguing to  the  actors  than  more  spacious  theatres, 
yet  sufficiently  large  to  produce  adequate  receipts, 
provided  that  popular  plays  held  its  boards."  It  is 
apparent,  therefore,  that  the  success  of  these  new- 


180  GOLDONI 

comers  depended  upon  the  skill  of  the  dramatist  they 
had  brought  with  them.  His  apprenticeship  with 
Imer's  troupe  had  laid,  so  he  believed,  "the  founda- 
tions for  the  Italian  comedy  he  intended  to  build." 
Homogeneous  in  design,  his  structure  was  to  be  a 
true  temple  to  Thalia,  without  so  much  as  a  niche 
for  her  tragic  sister.  He  was  equipped  with  ex- 
perience both  in  life  and  in  stage-craft,  and  having, 
as  he  declares,  "no  rivals  to  contend  with,"  he  began 
at  once  "the  construction  of  the  new  edifice,"  a  work 
at  which  he  was  to  labour  ardently  for  fourteen  years 
ere  the  scorn  of  critics  and  the  success  of  rivals  drove 
him  in  chagrin  to  seek  an  asylum  in  a  foreign  land. 


VI 

PLAYWRIGHT  OF  THE  SANT'  ANGELO  THEATRE 

FROM  the  time  of  his  return  to  Venice  in  the 
autumn  of  1748  until  his  departure  for  Paris  in 
the  spring  of  1762,  Goldoni  worked  unflag- 
gingly,  during  this  period  writing  fully  a  hundred 
comedies,  several  tragedies  and  tragi-comedies,  and 
nearly  fifty  merry  plays  for  music.  Moreover,  his 
genius  attained  its  zenith  at  that  time,  his  best 
plays  almost  without  exception  being  penned  during 
these  fourteen  toilsome  years.  Passionately  attached 
to  the  stage,  he  was  engrossed  in  its  demands.  No 
longer  a  dilettante,  nor  a  briefless  lawyer,  no  longer 
a  young  vagabond  inspired  by  wanderlust,  he  was  a 
man  past  forty,  who  to  earn  his  bread  had  articled 
himself  to  an  exacting  manager,  his  task  being  to 
furnish  dramatic  material  of  a  nature  sufficiently 
popular  to  make  the  operation  of  a  theatre  profita- 
ble. 

A  year's  run  of  a  new  play  is  not  uncommon  in 
our  day;  yet  the  presentation  of  one  of  his  comedies 
for  a  month  was  the  greatest  success  he  might  ex- 
pect. Sometimes  he  was  obliged  to  withdraw  after 
four  or  five  performances  a  piece  that  had  failed, 
and  rush  into  rehearsal  some  unfinished  comedy,  the 


1 82  GOLDONI 

final  acts  of  which  he  wrote  while  shaping  the  ear- 
lier ones  to  fit  the  idiosyncracies  of  the  actors.  Liv- 
ing in  an  age  when  literature  was  deemed  a  pleasant 
avocation,  he  made  it  a  vocation,  and  led,  mean- 
while, a  valiant  crusade  against  the  antiquated  and 
lewd  comedy  of  his  native  land ;  an  arduous  task  in- 
deed, since  his  audience  was  inured  to  the  time-worn 
lazzi  of  Arlecchino  and  Brighella,  while  the  come- 
dians for  whom  he  wrote,  accustomed  to  the  use  of 
masks,  were  without  practice  in  learning  their  parts. 
Moreover,  the  Sant'  Angelo  theatre  which  Medebac 
had  engaged,  had  as  competitors  in  the  field  of 
comedy  two  playhouses  of  established  reputation. 
"I  do  not  remember  what  play  was  given  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  Sant'  Angelo,"  Goldoni  says,  "but  I  know 
well  that  our  newly  arrived  troupe  had  to  struggle 
against  very  skilful  rivals." 

Gasparo  and  Lucia  RafE,  the  parents  of  Teodora 
Medebac,  the  leading  lady,  had  once  managed  a 
troupe  of  tight-rope  dancers  who  were  in  the  habit 
of  performing  in  Venice  at  carnival  time.  Madame 
Medebac,  so  Goldoni  assures  us,  "danced  on  the  rope 
passably  well,  but  on  the  ground  she  danced  with 
extreme  grace."  It  was  customary,  it  appears,  for 
some  members  of  the  RafR  troupe  to  perform  acro- 
batically in  a  booth  in  the  Piazza  San  Marco  by  day 
and  histrionically  by  night  in  the  little  San  Moise 
theatre,  of  which  Medebac,  who  instructed  them  in 
the  art  of  comedy,  was  then  manager  and  leading 
man.  Teodora  Raffi  became  his  wife,  as  well  as  the 


MOUNTEBANK    JUGGLERY 


Museo   Correr 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SANT'  ANGELO     183 

leading  lady  of  his  company;  her  flighty  aunt,  Mad- 
dalena  Raffi,  became  the  soubrette,  and  the  latter's 
husband,  Giuseppe  Marliani,  the  Brighella;  while 
our  old  friend,  Cesare  D'Arbes,  the  pantaloon,  mar- 
ried Gasparo  Raffi's  sister-in-law,  Rosalina,  whose 
first  husband  had  been  a  German  mountebank.1 

These  acrobatic  histrions  were  loved  and  appre- 
ciated, Goldoni  tells  us,2  "not  only  for  their  valour 
and  ability  as  rope-dancers,  but  for  their  decent  and 
discreet  way  of  living  under  the  excellent  manage- 
ment of  the  most  worthy  Raffi  and  the  faultless  con- 
duct of  the  prudent,  devoted,  and  charitable  Signora 
Lucia,  his  wife."  When,  after  strolling  about  the 
mainland  for  several  years  under  Medebac's  direc- 
tion, they  returned  to  Venice  and  entered  into  open 
competition  with  the  companies  of  the  San  Samuele 
and  the  San  Luca  theatres,  they  were  reproached 
with  their  humble  origin  and  derided  as  rope-dan- 
cers. Madame  Medebac's  acting  in  Grlseida  soon 
made  a  favourable  impression,  however,  and  in  The 
Clever  Woman  she  "succeeded  in  establishing  the 
company's  reputation." 

But  Cesare  D'Arbes  must  needs  be  fitted  with  a 
part  as  well.  He  had  never  played  without  a  mask, 
and  fearing  odious  comparison,  he  dared  not  act  the 
Pantaloons  Goldoni  had  created  for  Francesco  Coli- 
netti  of  Imer's  troupe ;  therefore,  he  decided  to  make 
his  Venetian  debut  unmasked  in  Elegant  Anthony 
(Tonin  bella  grazia),  the  piece  written  for  him 

*L.  Rasi:  Op.  cit.  2  Preface  to  Vol.  XVII,  Pasquali  edition. 


1 84  GOLDONI 

while  its  author  was  still  at  Pisa.     As  the  latter  says : 

We  placed  it  in  rehearsal.  The  actors  laughed  uproariously 
and  I  laughed  too;  we  believed  that  the  public  would  do  likewise, 
but  that  public,  which  they  say  has  no  mind,  had  a  very  strong 
and  decided  one  at  the  first  performance  of  this  play,  and  I  was 
obliged  to  withdraw  it  immediately.  Under  such  circumstances 
I  have  never  been  indignant  with  the  public  or  the  actors,  but  have 
always  begun  coolly  to  examine  myself,  and  this  time  I  saw  that 
the  fault  was  mine.  ...  I  shall  only  say  in  extenuation  that  when 
I  wrote  this  comedy  I  had  been  without  practice  for  four  years. 
My  mind  had  been  filled  with  professional  matters,  and  I  was 
troubled  and  in  ill-humour,  and  to  make  my  bad  luck  complete,  my 
actors  thought  it  was  good.  We  shared  in  this  folly  and  we  paid 
for  it  equally. 

D'Arbes  was  chagrined  by  his  failure,  but  in  The 
Prudent  Man  (L'Uomo  prudente),  another  comedy 
Goldoni  had  brought  from  the  provinces,  this  Panta- 
loon appeared  in  his  mask  so  successfully  "that  he 
was  acclaimed  generally  as  the  most  accomplished  ac- 
tor then  upon  the  stage."  Noting  that  in  real  life  he 
displayed  the  characteristics  of  both  a  worldling  and 
a  witling,  Goldoni,  bent  on  making  him  "shine  with 
his  face  unmasked,"  put  forth  The  Venetian  Twins 
(I  Due  gemelli  veneziani),  a  comedy  of  mistaken 
identity,  in  which  D'Arbes  played  both  a  clever  and 
a  doltish  Dromio  "with  such  incomparable  art  that 
he  found  himself  at  the  summit  of  his  glory  and  joy." 
The  manager  was  "no  less  content  at  seeing  the  suc- 
cess of  his  enterprise  assured,"  and  Goldoni  was  "a 
sharer  in  the  general  satisfaction,"  being  "welcomed 
with  open  arms,  and  applauded,"  as  he  declares,  "far 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SANT  ANGELO     185 

more  than  he  deserved."  This  success  set  the  critics 
yelping,  "the  troupe  of  rope-dancers"  being  more 
snappishly  pursued  by  jealous  rivals  than  the  author; 
but  "their  credit  increased  daily"  and  when  for  the 
carnival  season  Goldoni  drew  The  Artful  Widow 
from  his  magic  bag,  his  triumph,  as  well  as  theirs, 
was  complete. 

Since  the  merits  of  this  comedy  are  rehearsed  in 
a  subsequent  chapter,  it  is  only  necessary  to  remind  the 
reader  that  this  spirited  stage  picture  of  Venetian 
society  is  one  of  the  two  plays  that  first  distinguished 
its  author  as  the  creator  of  a  national  comedy,  the 
other  being  its  immediate  successor,  The  Respectable 
Girl,  a  comedy  in  which  Goldoni  first  appears  as  the 
naturalistic  painter  of  the  life  of  the  common  peo- 
ple of  Venice.  As  he  says  with  reference  to  The 
Art) 'ul  Widow  : 

I  had  given  very  lucky  plays,  but  none  had  been  so  lucky  as 
this  one.  It  received  thirty  consecutive  performances  and  has  been 
played  everywhere  with  the  same  good  fortune.  The  birth  of  my 
reform  could  not  have  been  more  auspicious.  I  still  had  a  play  to 
give  for  the  Carnival:  it  was  necessary  that  the  closing  should 
not  belie  the  first  successes  of  this  decisive  year,  and  I  found  the 
work  which  I  needed  to  crown  my  labours.  .  .  .  This  play,  The 
Respectable  Girl,  had  all  the  success  I  could  possibly  wish;  the, 
closing  could  not  have  been  more  brilliant.  Behold  my  reform 
already  well  under  way !  What  good  luck !  What  joy  for  me ! 

With  the  scoring  of  this  triumph  for  his  ambition 
to  reform  Italian  comedy  terminated  the  provisional 
contract  Goldoni  had  signed  with  Medebac  in  Sep- 
tember, 1747.  So  pleased  were  both  manager  and 


186  GOLDONI 

playwright  with  their  common  success,  that  a  four 
years'  agreement  was  concluded  between  them  on 
March  10,  1749,  by  the  terms  of  which  Goldoni,  of- 
ficially called  "the  Poet  of  the  Medebac  troupe," 
agreed  for  an  annual  salary  of  four  hundred  and 
fifty  Venetian  ducats 3  to  write  eight  comedies  and 
two  operas  a  year,  as  well  as  to  rewrite  old  comedies, 
assist  at  rehearsals,  and  follow  the  troupe  during  the 
summer  season  to  the  various  cities  where  his  plays 
might  be  produced.4  Furthermore,  he  was  forbid- 
den to  write  comedies  for  other  theatres  in  Venice,  but 
might  pen  libretti  for  musical  pieces. 

Having  so  appalling  a  contract  to  fulfil,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  his  life  became  less  venturesome.  No 
man  required  to  write  eight  comedies  a  year,  could 
have  many  idle  moments  for  Satan's  employment; 
soubrettes  disturbed  him  less  frequently  during  those 
busy  years,  and  the  merry  hazards  of  his  earlier  life 
gave  way  to  theatrical  routine.  In  a  word,  genial 
Goldoni  became  an  untiring  dramatist,  employed 
early  and  late  at  the  work  of  conceiving,  writing,  and 
rehearsing  plays.  No  sooner  was  a  Venetian  the- 
atrical season  ended  than  he  was  off  to  terra  firma 
with  Medebac's  troupe,  following  it  from  town  to 
town,  writing  new  comedies  the  meanwhile,  and  try- 
ing many  of  them  out  before  provincial  audiences. 

He  had  moreover  to  quell  the  jealousies  of  ac- 

3  About  $675 — the  Venetian  ducat,  according  to  Larousse,  being  worth 
7.47  francs. 

4  Commedie   di    Goldoni,   Paperini    (Florence)     edition,    1753-55,    vol. 
VII,  introduction  to  La  Donna  vendicativa. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SANT  ANGELO    187 

tresses  and  repel  the  attacks  of  enemies.  After  his 
first  great  success  had  been  won  by  The  Artful 
Widow,  a  host  of  antagonists  arose  to  confound  him, 
the  exultation  of  the  fourteen  glorious  years  he  passed 
in  Venice  being  frequently  marred  by  the  attempts 
of  envious  rivals  to  undo  him.  His  literary  quar- 
rels being  discussed  later,  the  following  plaint  shall 
suffice  for  indicating  that,  like  every  great  writer,  he 
was  a  target  for  the  venomous  shafts  of  less  successful 
men: 

While  I  worked  on  the  old  foundation  of  Italian  comedy  and 
presented  only  plays  partly  written  and  partly  in  outline,  I  was 
permitted  to  enjoy  in  peace  the  applause  of  the  pit ;  but  the  moment 
I  announced  myself  as  an  author,  inventor,  and  poet,  bright  minds 
awoke  from  their  lethargy  and  found  me  worthy  of  attention  and 
criticism. 

His  second  season  in  Venice  (1749-50)  was  far 
less  successful  than  his  first.  It  began  with  a  revival 
of  The  Artful  Widow?  and  no  sooner  had  this  play 
reappeared  upon  the  boards  of  the  Sant'  Angelo  thea- 
tre than  the  comedians  of  the  San  Samuele  put  forth 
a  parody  of  it,  written  by  the  Abate  Pietro  Chiari,6 
his  principal  rival  in  the  field  of  comedy.  This  base 
attack  so  nettled  Goldoni,  that  in  spite  of  his  avowed 
principle  of  never  answering  critics,  he  wrote  a  dia- 

5  In  his  memoirs  Goldoni,  writing  some  thirty  years  later,  is  inexact  in 
giving   the    number    and    sequence    of   the    plays    presented    during    this 
season.     He  places  the  revival  of  The  Artful  Widow  at  carnival  time, 
but  Gradenigo,  a  contemporary,  under  date  of  Oct.  13,  1749,  records  in 
his   Notatori   the    literary   quarrel   which   resulted   from   the   revival   of 
that  play.     Vittorio  Malamani  in  Ateneo  Veneto,  Jan.-Feb.,  1907. 

6  La  Scuola  delle  vedove. 


188  GOLDONI 

logic  reply,  which  he  caused  to  be  printed  and  circu- 
lated throughout  the  coffee-houses  and  assembly- 
rooms  of  Venice.7 

But  he  was  failing  in  the  fulfilment  of  his  con- 
tract to  write  eight  comedies  for  each  theatrical  sea- 
son. During  the  autumn  and  winter  he  produced 
but  five  new  plays ; 8  and  when  the  season  was  waning 
Medebac  began  to  clamour  for  the  full  quota  of  nov- 
elties. Goldoni  would  have  preferred  finishing  the 
season  with  revivals  of  his  past  successes,  but  the  in- 
sistence of  his  manager  obliged  him  to  place  in  re- 
hearsal The  Lucky  Heiress  (UErede  fortunata),  a 
comedy  with  which  he  was  "not  content"  and  which, 
as  he  had  foreseen,  failed  dismally.  To  add  to  the 
embarrassment  of  both  Goldoni  and  Medebac,  "the 
excellent  Pantaloon,"  Cesare  D'Arbes,  "who  was  one 
of  the  mainstays  of  the  company,"  left  Venice  to  en- 
ter the  service  of  the  King  of  Poland.  So  popular 
was  this  actor,  that  when  the  news  of  his  departure 
became  known,  the  box-holders  began  to  refuse  the 
renewal  of  their  subscriptions  for  the  ensuing  sea- 
son, a  state  of  affairs  that  called  for  drastic  action, 
lest  the  doom  of  the  Sant'  Angelo  company  be  sealed. 
To  close  the  season  The  Respectable  Girl  and  its 
sequel 9  were  revived,  and  in  the  Complimento,  or 
verses  with  which  it  was  customary  for  the  most 

7  Prologo  apologetico  'alia  commedia  la  Vedova  scaltra. 

8  In  his  memoirs   Goldoni  mentions  only  two:  La  Buona  moglie  and 
//  Cavaliere  e  la  dama,  but  L'Awocato  veneziano,  II  Padre  di  famiglia 
and  La  Famiglia  dell'  antiquario  were,  according  to  the  most  accurate 
data  obtainable,  produced  during  this  season. 

9  La  Buona  moglie. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SANT  ANGELO     189 

popular  actress  to  flatter  the  audience  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  last  performance  of  the  year,  Goldoni 
stepped  into  the  breach  that  his  failures  had  made  in 
the  defences  of  Medebac's  enterprise,  in  the  bold 
manner  he  thus  describes: 

Offended  on  my  side  by  the  ill  temper  of  the  public,  and  being 
blindly  confident  that  I  amounted  to  something,  I  wrote  for  the 
leading  actress  the  Complimento  with  which  the  season  ended,  and 
made  her  say  in  bad  verse,  but  very  clearly  and  very  positively, 
that  the  author  who  worked  for  her  and  her  comrades  agreed  to 
present  sixteen  new  comedies  during  the  ensuing  year.10  The 
troupe  on  the  one  hand  and  the  public  on  the  other  at  once  gave 
me  a  certain  and  very  flattering  proof  of  their  confidence,  for  the 
actors  did  not  hesitate  to  accept  an  engagement  upon  my  word, 
and  a  week  later  all  the  boxes  were  let  for  the  ensuing  year. 
When  I  made  this  agreement,  I  had  not  a  single  subject  in  mind; 
yet  I  had  to  keep  my  word  or  die.  My  friends  trembled ;  my  ene- 
mies laughed.  I  comforted  the  former ;  I  made  game  of  the  latter. 
...  It  was  a  terrible  year  for  me,  which  I  cannot  recall  without 
trembling  again.  Sixteen  comedies  in  three  acts,  each  requiring 
for  its  performance,  according  to  Italian  usage,  two  hours  and  a 
half! 

The  theatrical  season  of  1750-51  was  indeed  "ter- 
rible," and  the  wonder  is  that  Goldoni  did  not  die 
in  the  attempt  to  keep  his  defiant  promise  to  the  Vene- 
tian public.  He  had  agreed  to  produce  sixteen  new 
comedies,  which  in  addition  to  the  labour  of  writ- 
ing, meant  the  onerous  task  of  rehearsal.  In  length, 
including  stage-directions,  his  comedies  average 

10  The  wording  in  the  Complimento  is  as  follows:  "He  will  produce 
comedies  altogether  new.  And  if  he  be  alive  and  his  imagination  does 
not  fail  him  [he  will  produce]  one  a  week  at  least."  Since  the  theatri- 
cal season  lasted  about  sixteen  weeks,  this  is  equivalent  to  promising  as 
many  comedies,  a  promise  which  was  kept. 


igo  GOLDONI 

about  twenty-five  thousand  words,  hence  he  had  con- 
tracted to  write  four  hundred  thousand  words,  or 
the  equivalent  of  a  newspaper  column  a  day  of  the 
most  difficult  kind  of  imaginative  work.  Not  only 
was  he  called  upon  to  pen  the  average  daily  stint 
of  the  modern  newspaper  man,  but  he  must  accom- 
plish it  in  dialogue  that  would  unfold  a  dramatic 
story  vivaciously  and  entertainingly.  He  had,  more- 
over, to  invent  the  subjects  for  his  sixteen  comedies, 
as  well  as  to  construct  their  plots.  The  physical  task 
he  had  set  himself  was  the  equivalent  of  writing  five 
novels  of  the  present  day,  but  in  imaginative  require- 
ments it  was  far  greater.  When  it  is  borne  in  mind 
that  a  prolific  novelist  produces  no  more  than  two 
novels  a  year,  and  that  a  popular  playwright,  such  as 
the  late  Clyde  Fitch,  including  both  original  plays 
and  adaptations,  placed  upon  his  stage  a  little  more 
than  forty  dramatic  pieces  in  a  period  of  twenty  years, 
some  idea  may  be  gained  of  the  gigantic  nature  of 
Goldoni's  undertaking. 

No  sooner  had  he  informed  the  Venetian  public  that 
he  would  produce  a  new  comedy  each  week  during 
the  ensuing  theatrical  year,  than  he  went  with  Mede- 
bac's  troupe  on  its  summer  tour  to  Mantua  and  Mi- 
lan.11 In  the  former  city  he  "did  not  lose  his  time," 
and  there  "worked  day  and  night."  Play-writing, 
however,  was  not  his  only  task.  Antonio  Matteucci, 

11  Goldoni  in  his  memoirs  says  "Bologna  and  Mantua,"  but  Messrs. 
Malamani,  Brognoligo,  Mazzoni,  and  Spinelli,  all  agree  in  saying  that 
this  should  be  Mantua  and  Milan,  Goldoni's  error  being  attributable  to 
the  advanced  age  at  which  he  wrote. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SANT  ANGELO     191 

an  intelligent  young  pantaloon,  known  on  the  stage 
as  //  Collalto,  had  been  engaged  to  replace  D'Arbes 
and  as  he  had  appeared  only  in  improvised  comedy, 
to  coach  him  in  the  new  method  of  acting  unmasked 
became  Goldoni's  special  care.  He  wrote,  too,  oc- 
casional verses  for  the  weddings  or  funerals  of  his 
distinguished  friends,  and  undertook,  besides,  the 
editing  of  his  plays,  for  the  publication  of  which  he 
had  arranged  before  leaving  Venice. 

In  a  letter  he  wrote  from  Mantua  to  Bettinelli,  his 
publisher,  he  laments  that  the  work  necessitated  by 
the  sixteen  plays,  had  prevented  him  from  penning 
a  preface  to  the  first  volume,  but  when  he  reached 
Milan,  fatigue  apparently  overcame  his  will,  for  in 
another  letter  to  Bettinelli 12  from  this  latter  city,  he 
complains  that  the  July  heat  prevented  him  from 
working.  He  had  energy,  however,  for  social  diver- 
sions, and  accepted  the  hospitality  of  Count  Giuseppe 
Antonio  Arconati-Visconti,  a  Lombardian  diplomat, 
through  whose  patronage  Medebac  had  obtained 
the  use  for  that  summer  of  the  Ducal  Theatre 
at  Milan.13  When  Goldoni  returned  to  Venice 
after  that  arduous  summer  on  the  mainland,  he 
brought  with  him  the  manuscript  of  seven  of  the 
sixteen  comedies  he  had  promised  his  public. 
Three  of  these  had,  to  use  theatrical  parlance,  been 
"tried  out"  at  Mantua  and  four  at  Milan;  therefore, 
when  the  season  opened  at  the  Sant'  Angelo  theatre 

12  G.  M.  Urbani  de  Ghelthof :  Letter e  di  Carlo  Goldoni. 
13Adolfo  and  Alessandro  Spinelli:  Letter  e  di  Carlo   Goldoni  e  di  Gi- 
rolamo  Medebach  al  conte  Giuseppe  Antonio  Arconati-Visconti. 


i92  GOLDONI 

on  October  ^th,  nine  of  the  sixteen  comedies  were 
merely  on  the  stocks  or  still  to  be  conceived. 

The  first  of  this  remarkable  series  to  be  pre- 
sented on  the  Venetian  stage  was  The  Comic  Theatre 
(II  Teatro  comico),  a  confession  of  faith  rather  than 
a  play,  in  which  Goldoni,  after  announcing  the  titles 
of  the  sixteen  comedies  he  intended  to  present 14  took 
occasion  to  berate  the  antiquated  methods  of  the  Im- 
provised Comedy,  at  the  same  time  preparing  the 
mind  of  his  public  for  the  reform  he  was  about  to 
launch,  this  play  being  in  reality  a  bold  polemic  put 
forth  in  his  own  defence. 

So  flimsy  in  plot,  that  dramatically  it  is  the  merest 
skit,  The  Comic  Theatre  nevertheless  abounds  in 
both  atmosphere  and  characterization.  A  company 
of  actors  are  discovered  on  their  stage  rehearsing  a 
comedy.  They  are  interrupted  by  a  playwright  who 
tries  to  dispose  of  his  antiquated  wares  to  a  canny 
manager,  and  failing  in  his  purpose,  decides  that 
rather  than  starve  he  will  become  an  actor  himself. 
An  opera  singer  out  of  employment  appears,  seeking 
an  engagement  to  sing  intermezzo,  and  she  too  de- 
scends to  histrionism  as  a  last  resort.  In  The 
Father,  a  Rival  of  his  Son  (II  Padre  rivale  del  suo 
figlio],  the  make-believe  piece  these  actors  are  re- 
hearsing, Goldoni  presents  a  spirited  little  play 
within  a  play  after  the  manner  of  Hamlet.  The 
incidents  of  The  Comic  Theatre  itself  are  too  atten- 

14  Regarding  the  titles   of  these  sixteen  comedies  some  doubt  obtains. 
All  the  existing  facts  may  be  found  in  Appendix  A. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SANT  ANGELO     193 

uated,  however,  to  constitute  more  than  a  slender 
sketch;  yet  it  pictures  life  behind  the  scenes  so  can- 
didly and  portrays  stage  folk  so  ruthlessly,  that  the 
wonder  is  that  Medebac's  players  did  not  refuse  to 
appear  in  this  exposure  of  the  egotism  that  distin- 
guishes their  calling.  Here  are  shown  all  the  vaga- 
bond types  that  compose  a  theatrical  troupe; — the 
overbearing  leading  lady  and  her  harassed  manager, 
the  pert  soubrette,  the  vain  jeune  premier,  and  the 
coarse  comedian  hungering  for  laughs,  each  as  clam- 
orous for  a  "fat  part"  as  any  modern  star;  for  as  one 
of  them  says : 

.  .  .  There  are  some  actors  who  have  the  conceit  to  judge  a 
comedy  by  their  part.  If  it  be  short,  they  say  that  the  comedy  is 
poor.  They  would  all  like  to  play  the  leading  role,  since  the  actor 
rejoices  and  is  glad  when  he  hears  laughter  and  handclapping. 

For  if  the  public's  hands  clap  hard, 

The  actor  's  worthy  of  regard. 

While  stripping  his  actors  of  their  pretensions  and 
exposing  their  artistic  leanness  to  the  public,  Gol- 
doni  gives  them  considerable  wise  advice.  "Don't 
you  see  that  it  is  n't  right  to  address  the  audience?" 
he  makes  the  manager  in  this  play  say  to  a  member 
of  his  company.  "When  he  is  alone  on  the  stage,  an 
actor  should  pretend  that  no  one  hears  or  sees  him; 
for  this  habit  of  speaking  to  the  audience  is  an  intol- 
erable fault  that  should  not  be  permitted  on  any 
ground  whatever."  In  the  following  speech  from  this 
skit  Goldoni  vies  with  Shakespeare  in  artistic  sanity: 

See  to  it  that  you  pronounce  clearly  the  last  syllables,  so  they 


i94  GOLDONI 

can  be  heard.  Recite  slowly,  but  not  too  slowly;  and  in  strong 
passages  speak  louder,  and  accelerate  your  speech.  .  .  .  Guard  es- 
pecially against  drawling  and  against  declamation;  speak  natur- 
ally, as  if  you  were  talking :  since  comedy  is  an  imitation  of  nature, 
everything  that  is  done  must  be  likely  and  probable.  .  .  . 

Written  in  order  to  prepare  his  public  for  the  sup- 
pression of  the  mask  actors'  hackneyed  tricks,  The 
Comic  Theatre  was  intended  by  Goldoni  to  be  the 
prologue  to  his  reform  of  Italian  comedy.  He  did 
not  know,  as  Professor  De  Gubernatis  points  out,15 
that  in  the  oriental  plays  of  Kalidasa  actors  and  ac- 
tresses were  sometimes  made  to  discuss  a  new  play  and 
predispose  the  public  in  its  favour;  yet  he  knew  clas- 
sical comedy,  and  perhaps  Moliere's  Versailles  Im- 
promptu (L'Impromptu  de  Versailles)  as  well. 
Courageously  discarding  the  monologue  of  Plautus 
and  the  single  act  of  Moliere,  he  wrote  a  plotless  play 
that  held  the  interest  of  his  audience  throughout  three 
acts  merely  by  pictures  of  stage  life  and  the  discussion 
of  dramatic  values — a  feat  impossible  of  attainment 
in  the  present  day. 

Though  dramatically  The  Comic  Theatre  is  but  a 
gossamer,  in  biographical  texture  it  is  so  durable  that 
from  its  lines  much  insight  into  Goldoni's  literary 
life  is  gained;  for  besides  presenting  its  author's  theo- 
ries of  writing  and  acting,  it  shows  the  difficulties  that 
lay  in  his  progress  toward  fame.  For  instance,  when 
a  hack  writer  in  this  play  declares  that  he  intends  to 

15  Carlo  Goldoni,  Cor  so  di  Lezloni  fatte  nell'  Universita  di  Roma 
nell'  anno  scolastico  1910-1911. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SANT'  ANGELO     195 

write  comedies  as  good  as  Goldoni's,  the  manager, 
speaking  ex  cathedra,  says: 

Ah,  my  lad,  you  must  first  spend  on  the  stage  as  many  years  as 
he  has  passed  there,  and  then  you  may  hope  to  be  able  to  do 
something.  Do  you  think  he  became  a  writer  of  comedies  all  at 
once?  He  did  so  little  by  little,  and  succeeded  in  being  appre- 
ciated by  the  public  only  after  long  study,  long  practice,  and  a 
continuous  and  untiring  observation  of  the  stage,  manners,  and 
customs,  as  well  as  of  the  genius,  of  nations. 

After  successfully  presenting  The  Comic  Theatre 
to  Venetian  playgoers,  Goldoni  gained  time  for  the 
completion  of  his  titanic  task  by  staging  six  comedies 
he  had  already  produced  in  Mantua  and  Milan,16 
hastening  the  meanwhile  to  completion  those  needed 
to  fulfil  his  boast.  When  all  but  one  had  been  fin- 
ished, he  was  at  a  loss  for  a  subject,  until  strolling 
one  day  in  the  Piazza  San  Marco,  he  saw  an  Arme- 
nian fruit  pedlar,  who  "sent  him  home  happy,"  this 
man's  appearance  having  suggested  to  him  the  plot 
of  Women's  Tittle-Tattle  (I  Pettegolezzi  delle 
donne) ,  the  last  of  the  famous  sixteen  comedies.  Pre- 
sented on  Shrove  Tuesday  (Feb.  23,  1751),  it  brought 
this  extraordinary  season  to  an  end.  Goldoni's  words 
shall  describe  its  impressive  premiere: 

On  that  day  the  throng  was  so  great  that  the  price  of  boxes 
was  tripled  and  quadrupled,  and  the  applause  so  tumultuous  that 
the  passers-by  wondered  if  it  resulted  from  pleasure  or  a  general 
riot.  I  was  seated  tranquilly  in  my  box,  surrounded  by  friends, 
who  were  weeping  with  joy.  A  crowd  of  people  sought  me  out, 

16  Le  Femmine  puntigliose,  La  Bottega  del  cafie,  II  Bugiardo,  UAdul- 
atore,  II  Poeta  fanatico,  and  Pamela  nubile. 


196  GOLDONI 

and,  forcing  me  to  leave,  carried  and  dragged  me  in  spite  of  my- 
self to  the  Ridotto,  where  I  was  paraded  from  room  to  room  and 
made  to  receive  the  compliments  I  would  have  liked  to  avoid,  had 
I  been  able  to  do  so.  I  was  too  tired  to  endure  such  a  ceremony ; 
moreover,  not  knowing  whence  came  the  enthusiasm  of  the  mo- 
ment, I  was  provoked  to  find  this  play  placed  above  others  I  liked 
far  better.  But  little  by  little,  I  discerned  the  real  motive  for  this 
general  acclamation.  It  was  an  ovation  for  the  fulfilment  of  my 
pledge. 

In  a  letter  he  wrote  four  days  later  to  Count  Ar- 
conati-Visconti,  his  Milanese  patron,  Goldoni  says 
that  the  crowd  at  the  theatre  on  that  eventful  evening 
was  so  great  that  three  hundred  people  were  turned 
away,  and  although  he  had  the  "consolation  of  being 
universally  appreciated,"  he  declared  that  he  should 
"never  again  undertake  a  burden  such  as  he  believed 
had  never  before  been  successfully  borne  by  any  one." 
"My  friends  trembled,"  he  adds,  "lest  I  might  not 
fulfil  this  momentous  engagement,  while  my  enemies 
got  their  whistles  ready  to  blow." 

Thus  terminated  a  dramatic  season  that  is  perhaps 
the  most  remarkable  in  the  history  of  the  stage.  Not 
only  did  Goldoni  produce  sixteen  new  plays  at  the 
Sant'  Angelo  during  as  many  weeks,  but  he  was  writ- 
ing the  libretti  of  five  comic  operas  performed  that 
season  at  the  San  Cassiano  and  other  theatres,  and  had, 
besides,  orders  for  comedies  from  other  cities.  "I  am 
glued  to  my  desk  day  and  night,"  he  writes  a  friend, 
"and  for  twelve  days  I  have  not  been  to  the  play. 
I  have  two  theatres  on  my  shoulders,  and  orders,  be- 
sides, for  two  comedies  a  year  for  Dresden  and  two  for 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SANT  ANGELO     197 

Florence.17  In  spite  of  the  abnormal  amount  of  work 
he  was  doing,  there  were  only  two  failures  among  his 
famous  sixteen  plays.18  In  literary  quality,  too,  they 
are  far  from  contemptible,  three  of  their  number  19 
taking  a  high,  though  not  a  commanding,  rank  among 
their  author's  literary  work.  In  style  they  vary 
greatly,  among  them  being  comedies  of  character,  in- 
trigue, adventure,  manners,  and  sentiment.  More- 
over, Goldoni  began  about  this  time  to  write  out  the 
parts  of  the  mask  characters.  "After  the  first  and 
second  year,"  he  says,20  "I  did  not  leave  them  at 
liberty,  but  whenever  I  thought  they  ought  to  be  in- 
troduced, I  gave  them  written  parts ;  for  I  had  learned 
by  experience  that  a  mask  thinks  more  of  himself  than 
of  the  comedy  in  hand,  and  if  he  can  but  get  a  laugh, 
he  does  n't  bother  to  investigate  whether  or  not  the 
thing  he  says  conforms  to  his  part  and  its  circum- 
stances; thus,  without  being  aware  of  it,  often  con-  ] 
fusing  the  action,  and  ruining  the  comedy." 

It  will  be  seen  that  Goldoni's  reform  was  thor- 
oughly launched  during  this  memorable  season.  In 
keeping  his  word  to  the  Venetian  public  he  had  ac- 
complished a  task  such  as  Alfieri  alone  has  emulated 
in  modern  times ; 21  but  by  placing  the  antiquated 
masks  in  fetters,  he  had  freed  Italian  comedy  from 

"  Letter  to  G.  A.  Arconati-Visconti,  Oct.  22,  1751. 
18 //  Giuocatore  and  La  Donna  volubile. 

19  Le  Femmine  puntigliose,  La  Bottega  del  caffe,  La  Dama  prudente. 

20  Preface  to  La  Famiglia  dell'  antiquario,  Pasquali  edition. 

21  The  fourteen  tragedies  which  Alfieri  finished  during  the  two  years 
of  his  sojourn  in  Rome,  were  not  all  conceived  there,  some  of  them  be- 
ing merely  finished  or  retouched  at  that  time.     (1782-83). 


198  GOLDONI 

the  despotism  of  centuries.  The  public,  moreover, 
had  given  him  an  ovation :  Pantalone  and  his  mates 
no  longer  tyrannized  over  the  stage. 

After  this  arduous  season  Goldoni  suffered  from 
neurasthenia,  a  malady  to  which  writers  are  especially 
prone.  "I  had  at  the  age  of  forty-three,"  he  says, 
"much  inventive  and  executive  facility,  but  I  was  a 
man  like  any  other.  My  close  attention  to  work  had 
upset  my  health;  I  fell  ill,  and  paid  the  price  of  my 
folly."  Although  overcome  with  fatigue,  he  assures 
us  that  "vexation  played  no  less  a  part  in  his  condi- 
tion," for  he  had,  like  many  another  playwright, 
quarrelled  with  his  manager,  a  grasping  and  ungrate- 
ful man,  it  appears,  who  had  not  given  him  so  much 
as  "one  obol"  beyond  his  salary  for  the  year,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  he  had  written  sixteen  comedies  in- 
stead of  eight  stipulated  for  in  the  contract.  "I  re- 
ceived many  compliments  from  Medebac,"  he  says, 
"but  no  reward  of  any  sort;  I  was  angry,  yet  I  held 
my  tongue."  "However,"  as  he  continues,  "a  man 
cannot  live  on  glory" ;  therefore,  he  turned  to  the  pub- 
lication of  his  plays,  only  to  find  himself  opposed  in 
the  enjoyment  of  "this  last  resource"  by  niggardly 
Medebac,  who  claimed  that  in  buying  stage  rights,  he 
had  purchased  literary  rights  as  well.  "Not  wishing 
to  be  in  litigation  with  people  he  saw  daily,"  and 
"loving  peace  too  much  to  sacrifice  it  to  interest,"  he 
compromised  the  matter  by  accepting  Medebac's 
permission  to  publish  one  volume  of  plays  a  year.  "I 
understood  his  singular  permission  to  mean,"  he  says, 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SANT'  ANGELO     199 

"that  Medebac  believed  he  had  attached  me  to  him- 
self for  life;  but  I  only  awaited  the  end  of  the  fifth 
year  to  get  rid  of  him." 

Feeling,  meanwhile,  that  a  change  of  air  and  the 
distractions  of  travel  would  benefit  his  health,  he  and 
his  wife  went  in  April  with  Medebac's  troupe  to 
Turin,  and  while  there  he  composed  Moliere  (II 
Moliere) ,  a  five-act  comedy  in  verse.  The  capital  of 
Piedmont  he  found  a  delightful  city,  its  inhabitants 
being  thoroughly  congenial  and  cosmopolitan,  and  he 
notes  with  considerable  surprise  that  they  spoke  of 
him  as  an  Italian  instead  of  a  Venetian,  an  indication 
that  the  seeds  of  nationalism  were  already  planted  in 
the  field  in  which  they  eventually  ripened  to  glorious 
maturity. 

Leaving  Turin  before  Moliere  was  produced,  he 
and  "good  Nicoletta"  went  to  Genoa,  where  he  led 
"a  delectable  life  of  perfect  idleness."  Refreshed  by 
a  summer  of  complete  rest,  he  returned  to  Venice 
when  the  autumn  chill  was  in  the  air,  and  there  he 
found  the  first  volume  of  his  plays  already  printed 
and  his  royalties  awaiting  him.  Having  dedicated 
the  four  comedies  it  contained  to  four  patrons,  he  ac- 
quired by  virtue  of  this  divided  compliment  a  silver 
chocolate  service,  a  watch,  a  golden  box,  and  four 
pairs  of  lace  cufifs,  a  more  substantial  reward,  cer- 
tainly, than  the  four  ceremonious  letters  of  thanks  a 
modern  writer  would  receive  under  similar  circum- 
stances. Further  to  gladden  him,  his  comedy,  Mo- 
Here,  which  had  been  produced  in  Turin  while  he 


200  GOLDONI 

was  reposing  in  Genoa,  was  successfully  presented  in 
Venice. 

During  the  ensuing  dramatic  season  (1751-52),  he 
penned  his  quota  of  comedies,  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  which  proved  successful;  but  the  tranquillity 
of  his  life  was  disturbed  by  a  soubrette,  who  unluckily 
was  the  aunt  of  Madame  Medebac,  the  leading  lady. 
Known  on  the  stage  as  La  Corallina,  and  married  to 
Marliani,  the  brighella,  this  lady,  Maddalena  Raffi 
by  name,  had  been  separated  from  her  husband  for 
three  years  because  of  her  "youthful  flightiness,"  and 
when  she  rejoined  him  to  become  the  soubrette  of 
Medebac's  company,  she  became  a  thorn  in  its  side  as 
well.  She  was  "pretty  and  pleasant,"  Goldoni  con- 
fesses, and  "had  a  marked  talent  for  comedy."  As 
she  played  soubrette  parts,  of  course  he  could  not  fail 
"to  interest  himself  in  her,"  he  says;  therefore  "he 
took  her  under  his  wing,"  and  wrote  for  her  several 
comedies 22  wherein  she  shone  so  brilliantly  that 
Madame  Medebac,  seeing  in  her  aunt  a  rival  for  the 
public's  favour,  became  so  jealous  that  Goldoni  was 
reluctantly  obliged  to  display  in  another  piece2* 
the  endowments  of  the  niece.  In  the  meantime, 
Collalto,  the  new  pantaloon,  was  clamouring  for 
the  centre  of  the  stage,  and  had  to  be  placated, 
too,  with  a  play;24  therefore,  it  was  an  altogether 
vexatious  season,  the  ill-feeling  of  which  Goldoni 

22  La    Castalda,    L'Amante    militare,    Le    Donne    gelose,    La    Serva 
amorosa,  I  Puntigli  domestici,  La  Locandiera,  Le  Donne  curwse. 

23  La  Moglie  saggia. 

24  /  Due  pantaloni'  later  called  /  Mercanti. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SANT  ANGELO    201 

subtly  contrived  to  intensify  by  writing  for  his  new- 
est flame  the  stellar  role  of  a  play  with  the  singularly 
appropriate  title  of  The  Jealous  Women  (Le  Donne 
gelose).  In  this  piece  La  Corallina  closed  the  sea- 
son so  dazzlingly,  the  enamoured  dramatist  says,  that 
"Madame  Medebac,  poor  woman,  again  fell  into  con- 
vulsions." "Her  vapours  aroused  my  own,"  he  con- 
tinues, "with  this  difference,  that  she  was  ill  in  mind 
and  I  in  body." 

Still  feeling  the  baneful  effects  of  his  abnormal 
labour  of  the  preceding  year,  he  joined  Medebac's 
troupe  at  Bologna,  hopeful  that  a  change  of  air  would 
benefit  his  weary  nerves.  While  seated  in  a  coffee- 
house one  day,  he  overheard  a  group  of  Bolognese 
discussing  his  arrival.  One  of  them  acclaimed  him 
"the  author  of  fine  comedies,"  another  denounced  him 
as  "the  author  who  had  suppressed  the  masks  and 
ruined  comedy."  In  the  midst  of  this  heated  dis- 
cussion of  his  merits,  a  physician  who  knew  him  en- 
tered the  coffee-house  and  greeted  him  warmly,  much 
to  the  chagrin  of  his  detractor  and  to  the  delight  of 
his  defender.  This  little  scene  amused  Goldoni 
greatly,  and  after  being  introduced  to  the  worthy 
Bolognese  who  had  expressed  a  good  opinion  of  him, 
he  went,  together  with  his  friend,  the  doctor,  and 
his  new  acquaintance,  to  the  house  of  the  Marquis 
Francesco  Albergati-Capacelli,  a  Bolognese  senator 
and  patron  of  the  stage,  who  played  so  considerable 
a  part  in  his  life  that  a  word  concerning  him  cannot 
be  amiss. 


202  GOLDONI 

Albergati  was  a  rich  young  nobleman,  who  em- 
ployed both  his  leisure  and  his  fortune  in  the  culti- 
vation of  the  dramatic  art.  At  Zola,  one  of  his  es- 
tates near  Bologna,  he  built  a  theatre  in  emulation  of 
"le  vieux  Suisse  des  Delices/*  where  he  and  his 
friends  played  translations  of  Voltaire,  as  well  as  com- 
edies he  penned  himself,  Albergati  being  so  good  a 
histrion  that  Goldoni  declared  no  professional  or 
amateur  in  Italy  could  play  the  heroes  of  tragedy  or 
the  lovers  of  comedy  so  well  as  this  young  Maecenas 
of  the  stage,  whom  contemporaries  dubbed  "the  Ital- 
ian Garrick." 

"Monsieur  d' Albergati  always  showed  me  both 
kindness  and  friendship,"  Goldoni  says,  "and  when- 
ever I  went  to  Bologna  I  lodged  at  his  house." 
Moreover,  it  was  Albergati  who  first  revealed  his 
work  to  Voltaire.  The  Bolognese  had  not  met  the 
sage  of  Ferney,  but  needing  some  information  re- 
garding the  staging  of  Semiramis,  he  wrote  to  Vol- 
taire himself,  and  received  together  with  the  stage 
directions  he  sought,  this  approval  of  his  passion  for 
the  theatre: 

Blessed  be  Heaven  which  inspired  you  with  a  love  for  the  most 
divine  pastime  that  cultivated  men  and  virtuous  women  can  en- 
joy, when  more  than  two  of  them  are  gathered  together. 

The  correspondence  thus  begun,  continued,  Vol- 
taire and  Albergati  exchanging,  together  with  expres- 
sions of  mutual  esteem,  tragedies  and  comedies,  both 
original  and  translated,  as  well  as  occasional  gifts. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SANT  ANGELO    203 

"I  do  not  know  Albergati,"  the  Sage  of  Ferney  told 
Casanova,  when  the  latter  visited  him  in  1760,  "but 
he  has  sent  me  Goldoni's  plays,  some  Bologna  sau- 
sages, and  a  translation  of  my  Tancrede." 25  The  ad- 
venturer pronounced  Goldoni  the  Moliere  of  Italy, 
but  dismissed  Albergati  as  "a  worthy  gentleman  with 
an  income  of  six  thousand  sequins,  who  was  afflicted 
with  theatromania."  From  this  fell  disease  he  cer- 
tainly suffered,  for  besides  acting  and  writing  plays, 
and  playing  host  to  playwrights  and  Thespians,  he 
took  for  his  wife  an  actress,  whom  he  later  murdered 
in  a  fit  of  jealousy.  In  expiation  of  his  crime  he  was 
obliged  to  flee  the  country  for  a  while,  yet  his  fervour 
for  the  footlights  remained  unquenched,  since  at  the 
age  of  seventy  he  married  for  his  third  wife  a  ballet 
dancer,  who  "made  him  the  most  unhappy  of  men." 

In  1752,  however,  Albergati  was  but  twenty-four 
years  old,  with  the  bacillus  of  theatromania  just  be- 
ginning to  stir  within  him;  so  he  welcomed  Goldoni 
at  his  board,  and  extended  to  him  the  hand  of  friend- 
ship, a  hospitality  the  dramatist  requited  by  dedi- 
cating his  next  play  to  this  young  marquis.26 

But  our  dramatist  was  beginning  to  cross  fashion- 
able thresholds  in  his  native  Venice,  as  well  as  in 
Bologna  and  Milan.  Not  only  did  he  dine  with  the 
distinguished  humanist  and  archaeologist  Gian  Rin- 
aldo  Carli-Rubbi  at  the  table  of  Her  Excellency,  La 
Signora  Procuratessa  Sagredo,27  but  he  was  actually 
"taken  up"  by  the  most  exclusive  patricians ;  for  when 

25  Memoirs  de  J.  Casanova  de  Selngalt. 

26  L*  Sena  amorosa.  27  Letter  to  Carli-Rubbi,  Feb.  12,  1752- 


204  GOLDONI 

Giovanni  Mocenigo,  a  scion  of  a  family  of  which 
six  members  had  already  worn  the  doge's  cap,  mar- 
ried in  April,  1752,  Caterina  Loredan,  daughter  of 
the  reigning  Doge,  the  bridegroom  invited  Goldoni 
to  the  wedding  in  this  friendly  manner: 

The  Most  Serene  Doge  has  permitted  me  to  invite  some  of  my 
friends  to  the  wedding;  you  are  one  of  the  number;  I  beg  you  to 
come.  There  will  be  a  seat  for  you  at  the  table. 

This  Giovanni  Mocenigo  was  a  worthy  member 
of  a  notable  family  whose  name  had  been  inscribed 
in  the  Golden  Book  of  Venice  since  its  inception  and 
whose  descendants  of  the  present  day  are  as  gracious 
and  hospitable  as  he.  That  he  kept  his  word  courte- 
ously, Goldoni's  account  of  the  wedding  supper  bears 
witness : 

In  the  banquet  hall  there  was  a  table  laid  with  a  hundred  cov- 
ers, and  in  another  room,  one  of  twenty-four,  at  which  the  Doge's 
nephew  did  the  honours.  I  was  seated  at  the  latter,  but  during 
the  second  course  we  all  left  our  places  and  went  into  the  large 
banquet  hall,  walking  around  this  immense  room,  stopping  now 
behind  one  and  now  behind  another,  I  in  particular  enjoying  the 
civilities  with  which  an  author,  who  had  had  the  good  luck  to 
please,  was  showered. 

This  courtesy  Goldoni  repaid  by  dedicating  one  of 
his  merry  plays  for  music  28  to  the  bride  "in  testimony 
of  his  profound  homage."  He  had  been  given  a 
place  at  last  at  the  feet  of  the  mighty  and  it  is  amus- 
ing to  picture  him  arriving  at  the  palazzo  of  some 
Mocenigo  or  Querini.  In  a  dingy  public  gondola 

28 1  Portentosi  effetti  della  madre  natura. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SANT'  ANGELO    205 

he  comes,  which  is  kept  rocking  against  the  striped 
pali,  while  some  trim  private  craft  discharges  its 
scented  and  powdered  freight.  The  gorgeous  door 
porter  and  the  liveried  gondoliers  of  his  host  with 
boat-hook  in  hand  look  at  him  askance  as  he  pays  the 
tariff  of  his  shabby  boatman,  and  begrudgingly  help 
him  to  alight  on  the  wave-washed  steps.  When  he 
has  ascended  the  broad  marble  stairway  and  entered 
the  rococo  salon  on  the  floor  above,  adorned  with 
frescoes  from  Tiepolo's  magic  brush,  many  a  pair  of 
pretty  eyes  flashes  scornfully  in  the  candlelight,  and 
many  a  smile  is  hidden  behind  a  point  de  Venise 
fan;  for  who  is  this  round-faced  borghese  of  awk- 
ward step  but  Papa  Goldoni,  the  author  of  comedies, 
invited  as  a  nine  days'  wonder  by  the  hostess,  before 
whom  he  is  bowing  and  scraping  with  middle-class 
uneasiness. 


VII 

PLAYWRIGHT  OF  THE  SAN  LUCA  THEATRE 

WHEN  Goldoni  returned  to  Venice  from 
Bologna  during  the  autumn  of  1752,  there 
was  a  matter  of  greater  import  than  social 
recognition  to  demand  his  attention.  He  had  become 
dissatisfied  with  Medebac,  and  as  the  period  during 
which  he  had  contracted  to  serve  him  was  drawing 
to  a  close,  he  notified  this  manager  that  "he  need  not 
count  on  him  for  the  following  year."  Though  Me- 
debac "did  his  best  to  induce  him  to  remain  in  his 
service,"  Goldoni  entered  into  negotiations  with  the 
proprietors  of  the  San  Luca  theatre,  two  patrician 
brothers,  Antonio  and  Francesco  Vendramin,  who 
conducted  their  playhouse  on  a  profit-sharing  basis, 
the  box  subscriptions  being  retained  for  the  rent  and 
the  door  receipts  divided  among  the  actors  according 
to  merit  and  seniority. 

A  few  days  before  his  agreement  with  Medebac 
expired,  Goldoni  signed  a  contract  with  the  Vendra- 
mins,  whereby  for  a  monthly  salary  of  fifty  ducats 
he  agreed  to  write  eight  comedies  annually  during 
a  period  of  ten  years.  Only  during  the  first  two 
years,  however,  was  he  obliged  to  follow  the  com- 
pany on  its  summer  tour  at  his  own  expense;  and  he 

206 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SAN  LUCA       207 

was  at  liberty  to  print  his  comedies,  though  not  until 
three  years  after  they  had  appeared  on  the  Venetian 
stage.1  While  the  theatres  were  closed  for  the 
Christmas  holidays,  he  notified  Medebac  of  his  in- 
tended desertion,  but  he  served  him  faithfully  dur- 
ing the  remaining  months  of  the  theatrical  season. 
Moreover,  at  its  close  he  handed  him  three  new  come- 
dies, a  parting  gift  that  brought  the  total  of  those 
penned  by  him  during  the  five  years  of  his  engage- 
ment with  the  Sant7  Angelo  company  to  forty-six — 
including  //  Pantalone  imprudente  (1749)  and  // 
Sensale  di  matrimoni  (before  April,  1753),  °f  which 
only  the  titles  exist — or  six  more  than  the  eight  a 
year  he  had  contracted  to  write. 

During  the  last  season  at  the  Sant'  Angelo,  Gol- 
doni  staged  The  Mistress  of  the  Inn  (La  Locan- 
diera),  and  was  assured  that  "he  had  never  con- 
structed so  well,  nor  written  so  naturally,"  an 
evidence,  surely,  that  a  good  play  is  good  at  any  time. 
Without  masks  and  lazzi,  or  any  of  the  more  trans- 
parent tricks  of  the  Improvised  Comedy,  this  notable 
play — a  milestone  in  its  author's  career — still  holds 
the  boards  in  Italy  and  has  been  translated  into  a 
dozen  languages.  At  the  time  of  its  production, 
however,  it  but  served  to  fire  the  jealousy  of  Madame 

^LDino  Mantovani:  Carlo  Goldoni  e  il  Teatro  dl  San  Luca  a  Venezia, 
gives  the  text  of  this  contract.  It  was  dated  Feb.  15,  1752,  old 
Venetian  time,  therefore  1753  according  to  the  Gregorian  calendar.  It 
was  executed  by  Antonio  Vendramin,  whose  brother  Francesco  signed 
two  succeeding  contracts  with  Goldoni  after  Antonio's  death,  which 
occurred  previous  to  1756,  when  Goldoni,  in  the  dedication  of  //  Geloso 
avaro,  speaks  of  him  as  being  deceased.  Francesco's  correspondence 
with  Goldoni  is  published  in  Signor  Mantovani's  volume. 


208  GOLDONI 

Medebac,  who  on  being  informed  that  her  aunt,  La 
Corallina,  was  to  play  the  title-role,  took  to  her  bed, 
until  the  news  of  her  rival's  success  caused  her  to 
leave  it  hurriedly  and  force  her  husband  to  revive 
a  former  success,2  in  which  her  own  talents  might 
shine  again.  According  to  Goldoni: 

Her  vapours  became  more  annoying  and  more  ridiculous.  She 
laughed  and  cried  at  the  same  time;  she  screamed,  grimaced,  and 
contorted.  Believing  she  was  bewitched,  her  worthy  family  sum- 
moned exorcists;  she  was  loaded  down  with  relics,  and  she  played 
and  sported  with  these  sacred  tokens  like  a  child  of  four. 

Mere  jealousy  of  a  rival's  histrionic  success  in  roles 
quite  different  from  her  own,  appears  an  insufficient 
cause  for  Madame  Medebac's  hysteria,  unless  to  it 
be  added  jealousy  of  the  heart.  May  not  the  man- 
ager's wife  have  loved  Goldoni  with  an  unrequited 
passion,  intensified  by  hate  of  the  winsome  soubrette 
who  had  made  him  the  prey  of  her  charms?  Though 
he  is  silent  on  this  point,  the  last  comedy  he  wrote 
for  the  Sant'  Angelo  was  "a  little  shaft  of  revenge,"  3 
directed  at  the  latter  of  these  warring  ladies,  whose 
efforts  to  keep  him  under  her  thumb  had  proved  so 
futile  that  "she  vowed  eternal  hatred."  Though  he 
paid  La  Corallina  the  compliment  of  composing  for 
her  the  comedy  that  ended  his  contract  with  Mede- 
bac, she  refused  to  play  in  it.  He  was  glad,  never- 
theless, he  assures  us,  "to  reply  to  the  vehemence  of 
her  anger  with  a  gentle  and  suitable  pleasantry." 

Amidst  this  storm  of  feminine  rancour  he  left  the 

2  Pamela  nubile.  3  La  Donna  vendicativa. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SAN  LUCA       209 

Sant'  Angelo  theatre  in  the  spring  of  1753,  and  took 
service  at  the  San  Luca,  only  to  kindle  a  jealous  con- 
flagration there.  In  the  new  company  there  was  a 
leading  lady  aged  fifty,  whose  husband,  Pietro  Gan- 
dini,  was  the  brighella.  Though  so  notable  a  protean 
artist  that  he  might  be  justly  dubbed  the  Frugoli 
of  his  day,  this  actor  claims  immortality  through  his 
husbandhood;  for  no  sooner  did  the  new  playwright 
appear  at  the  San  Luca  theatre  than  Gandini  began 
uxorious  intrigues  to  ensure  the  best  roles  for  his 
wife.  "A  charming  Florentine"  having  been  en- 
gaged to  play  the  second  roles,  Goldoni  "ran  the 
risk,"  he  says,  "of  being  forced  to  give  the.  heavy 
parts  to  the  young,  and  the  sentimental  to  the  super- 
annuated woman,"  Gandini  having  assured  him  that 
he  expected  his  wife  "to  shine  on  the  stage  for  ten 
years  to  come."  The  lady  "realized  her  limitations," 
it  appears ;  yet,  when  a  ten  years'  engagement  at  her 
present  salary  was  offered  her,  and  roles  promised 
her  by  Goldoni  "in  which  she  would  win  applause, 
provided  their  choice  was  left  to  him,"  her  husband 
maintained  curtly  that  his  wife  was  the  leading-lady, 
and  that  he  would  rather  be  hanged  than  see  her  de- 
graded, whereupon  "he  turned  his  back  rather  scurv- 
ily." 

By  creating  so  sympathetic  a  second  part  in  a  new 
play 4  that  La  Gandini  was  thoroughly  eclipsed  by 
the  vivacious  and  passionate  acting  of  Caterina  Bres- 
ciani,  the  charming  young  Florentine  in  question, 

4Hircana,  in  La  Sposa  persiana. 


210  GOLDONI 

Goldoni,  whose  "diabolical  art"  had  sacrificed  the 
leading-lady  without  her  husband  having  been  able 
to  perceive  it,  so  enraged  that  worthy  that  he  refused 
to  let  his  wife  appear  in  the  next  production.  Being 
given  but  scant  courtesy  by  the  Vendramins,  Gan- 
dini  vented  his  anger  by  throwing  his  watch  as  a 
parting  shaft  of  displeasure  through  a  glass  door, 
"which  he  broke  within  every  meaning  of  the  pro- 
verb," whereupon  he  and  his  ancient  spouse  resigned 
their  places  in  the  troupe  and  took  service  with  the 
King  of  Poland.  "Ah,  what  strange  beasts  actors 
are  to  drive,"  Moliere  once  exclaimed,  Goldoni's 
troubles  with  jealous  histrions  being  but  those 
shared  by  the  members  of  his  craft  in  every  age  and 
every  land. 

Although  there  were  quarrelling  actresses  at  the 
San  Luca  as  well  as  at  the  Sant'  Angelo,  Goldoni's 
vexations  were  lessened  by  the  fact  that  his  new  man- 
agers were  gentlemen,  who  in  their  transactions  with 
him  showed  themselves  a.t  once  scrupulous  and  lib- 
eral. He  had  articled  himself  for  ten  years  to  write 
eight  comedies  annually  at  a  monthly  salary  of  fifty 
ducats,  yet  before  the  half  of  that  period  had  ex- 
pired, the  number  of  comedies  he  was  obliged  to 
furnish  was  reduced  to  six.  He  was  permitted, 
moreover,  to  write  eight  or,  at  most,  nine  a  year; 
therefore,  as  his  emolument  was  in  his  second  con- 
tract with  the  Vendramins  changed  from  a  monthly 
stipend  of  fifty  ducats  to  the  payment  of  a  hundred 
for  each  comedy  he  penned,  it  will  be  seen  that  for 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SAN  LUCA       211 

the  eight  called  for  by  the  original  contract,  he  would 
receive  an  increase  of  two  hundred  ducats  over  its 
terms.  Besides,  this  second  contract  gave  Goldoni  a 
bonus  of  two  hundred  ducats,  payable  in  two  instal- 
ments, on  condition  that  he  comply  strictly  with  its 
provisions.5 

Yet  the  Vendramins,  though  generous,  were  pa- 
tricians, who  brooked  no  undue  familiarity  on  the 
part  of  their  bourgeois  dramatist.  In  the  letters  he 
exchanged  with  Francesco  Vendramin,  Goldoni  is 
careful  to  address  him  as  Eccellenza,  whereas  the 
manager  dismisses  him  as  "Signor  Carlo."  Once, 
when  he  asked  for  a  hundred  ducats,  Vendramin, 
though  he  sent  the  money,  wrote  curtly:  "Signor 
Carlo,  I  am  a  gentleman  and  a  Christian,  two  words 
of  great  significance.  I  who  write  them,  understand 
them :  I  hope  that  you  will  understand  them  also  after 
having  read  and  digested  them."  6 

Although  his  material  condition  was  bettered  at  the 
San  Luca  theatre,  Goldoni  had  considerable  trouble 
in  "infusing  its  actors  with  the  taste,  tone,  and  nat- 
ural manner  that  had  distinguished  those  of  the  Sam' 
Angelo" ;  moreover,  the  San  Luca  was  a  larger  thea-  / 
tre,  where  the  subtleties  of  comedy  were  lost.  No 
sooner  had  he  overcome  these  difficulties,  so  far  as 
lay  in  his  power,  by  penning  plays  more  spectacular 
than  those  he  had  staged  for  Medebac,  than  he  was 
beset  by  other  troubles ;  for  when  he  took  to  Bettinelli 

5  The  second  contract,  dated  Oct.  14,  1756,  was  executed  by  Francesco 
Vendramin,  after  the  death  of  his  brother  Antonio. 

6  Letter,  July,  1759. 


212  GOLDONI 

the  fourth  volume  of  his  plays,7  to  his  amazement 
he  was  coldly  informed  by  that  publisher  that  he 
would  accept  the  manuscript  only  from  Medebac,  on 
whose  sole  account  the  publication  of  the  comedies 
would  be  continued.  Furthermore,  Medebac  was 
pocketing  a  larger  sum  from  the  publication  of  the 
comedies  than  he  had  paid  the  author  for  writing 
them.8 

Feeling  that  "chicanery  is  the  same  everywhere," 
and  rather  than  enter  into  a  lawsuit,  Goldoni  de- 
cided to  issue  his  plays  elsewhere ;  therefore,  he  went 
to  Florence  forthwith  and  arranged  with  the  publish- 
ing house  of  Paperini  to  bring  out  a  revised  author's 
edition,  the  emendations  and  amplifications  of  which 
would  "confound"  Bettinelli  and  make  the  latter's 
edition  worthless.  But  that  wily  rascal,  aided  by  the 
publisher's  guild,  induced  the  Venetian  authorities 
to  forbid  the  importation  of  this  foreign  edition. 
Boldly  aided  by  his  friends,  Goldoni  resorted  to 
smuggling.  He  had,  he  tells  us,  five  hundred  Vene- 
tian subscribers  to  the  new  edition,  and  each  time  a 
volume  left  the  press,  five  hundred  copies  of  it  were 
hidden  "on  the  banks  of  the  Po,  at  a  spot  known  to 
a  band  of  noble  Venetians,"  who  introduced  the  con- 
traband into  the  capital  and  distributed  it  within  sight 
of  everybody.  The  government  held  aloof,  so  he 
says,  "from  a  matter  that  was  more  ridiculous  than 

7  In  his  Memoirs  Goldoni  says  the  third  volume,  but  he  is  in  error. 
See  A.  G.  Spinelli:  Bibliografia  goldoniana. 

8  Carlo   Goldoni   ad  un  suo   amico   in   Venezia,  published   as   a   pros- 
pectus of  the  Paperini  edition,  1753. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SAN  LUCA       213 

interesting."  Nevertheless,  the  correpondence  of  a 
confidential  agent  of  the  Venetian  censors  at  this  time 
indicates  that  the  charges  against  Bettinelli,  made  by 
Goldoni  in  a  published  letter,  were  so  resented  in 
Venice  that  efforts  were  threatened  to  prevent  his 
return  to  that  place  in  case  he  persisted  in  smuggling 
copies  of  the  Florentine  edition.9 

Goldoni  did  return  to  Venice,  however,  without 
being  proscribed;  yet  no  sooner  was  he  comfortably 
settled  there  than  his  worthless  brother  arrived,  to 
pester  him  anew.  He  had  not  seen  Gian  Paolo  for 
fully  ten  years,  but  when  the  scamp  reached  the  end 
of  his  resources,  he  wrote  the  dramatist,  saying  he 
had  married  in  Rome  a  lawyer's  widow  who  had  since 
died,  and  that  he  wished  "to  introduce  to  his  brother 
the  two  Goldoni  offspring"  to  whom  she  had  given 
birth, — a  boy  of  four,  or  thereabouts,  named  Antonio 
Francesco,  and  Petronilla  Margherita,  a  girl  of  five. 
"Becoming  interested  immediately  in  these  two  chil- 
dren, who  might,"  as  he  feared,  "need  his  assistance," 
Goldoni  sent  his  brother  funds  for  the  journey,  em- 
braced him  fondly  when  he  arrived  in  Venice,  and 
adopted  his  progeny,  whom  he  treated  as  his  own, 
his  wife  being  childless.  His  mother,  who  was 
nearly  eighty  by  this  time,  was  "much  thrilled  by 
seeing  a  son  whom  she  had  ceased  to  count  among 
the  living";  while  Nicoletta,  "whose  goodness  and 
sweetness  never  belied  her,  received  the  two  children 
as  her  own  and  took  charge  of  their  education." 

9  P.  G.  Molmenti:  Carlo  Goldoni. 


214  GOLDONI 

Still  suffering,  as  he  says,  from  the  effects  of  the 
hard  work  he  had  done  for  Medebac,  and  being  on 
the  verge  of  a  nervous  collapse,  Goldoni  went  "with 
his  entire  family"  to  Modena  during  the  early  sum- 
mer of  1754,  and  there  fell  ill  of  pneumonia.  No 
sooner  had  he  recovered,  than  he  must  needs  be  off 
to  Milan  "to  join  his  actors";  for  even  during  his 
convalescence  he  wrote  his  daily  stint  of  dramatic 
work.  When  he  returned  to  Venice  in  the  autumn, 
he  lost  his  mother;  though,  strangely  enough,  he  gives 
no  account  in  his  memoirs  of  the  death  of  "one  who 
had  ever  caressed  him  and  never  complained  of  him." 
Of  the  family  reunion  brought  about  by  his  brother's 
return,  he  records,  however,  that  "surrounded  by  all 
that  were  dear  to  him,  and  content  with  his  work, 
he  was  the  happiest  man  in  the  world." 

When  these  words  were  penned,  thirty-odd  years 
had  slipped  by  and  his  memory  had  doubtless  mel- 
lowed, since  in  letters  he  wrote  but  a  few  months  be- 
fore Gian  Paolo  appeared  in  Venice,  he  complains 
of  being  "pursued  by  misfortunes  and  persecuted  by 
enemies."  10  Indeed,  it  is  difficult  to  picture  this 
childless  sufferer  from  depleted  nerves,  whose  brother 
had  returned  to  harass  him,  and  whose  mother's  life 
was  ebbing,  as  the  happiest  of  men,  even  though  his 
plays  sold  well  and  "money  came  to  him  from  all 
sides."  Much  nearer  the  truth  it  is  to  state  that  dur- 

10  Letter  to  Marina   Sagredo  Pisani,   Nov.  4,   1753,   and   letter  to  the 
Marchese  Bonifazio  Rangoni,  of  the  preceding  day. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SAN  LUCA       215 

ing  those  laborious  years  in  Venice,  he  led  a  life  of 
constant  effort,  and  that,  since  "money  never  abided 
with  him  long,"  his  meagre  salary  barely  sufficed  for 
the  necessities  of  life. 

He  served  the  Vendramins  faithfully  and  bril- 
liantly the  meanwhile,  nearly  all  the  naturalistic 
comedies  in  the  Venetian  dialect,  upon  which  his 
fame  most  surely  rests,  being  written  during  the  nine 
years  he  worked  for  their  playhouse;  yet  he  was 
harassed  by  the  burden  of  an  augmented  family  and, 
as  a  subsequent  chapter  will  show,  he  was  beset  by 
the  attacks  of  jealous  rivals  and  militant  critics,  and 
often  was  at  his  wit's  end  to  keep  the  public's  fickle 
heart  from  wavering.  When  he  entered  the  Ridotto, 
for  instance,  after  the  failure  of  a  comedy,11  he  heard 
the  loungers  exclaim:  "Goldoni  is  finished.  Gol- 
doni  has  emptied  his  bag,  the  portfolio  is  exhausted." 
Asking  what  portfolio  was  meant,  a  masker  re- 
plied: "We  mean  the  manuscript  from  which  Gol- 
doni has  taken  everything  he  has  yet  written."  He 
had  "sought  critics,"  he  declared,  but  found  only 
"ignorance  and  animosity."  Undaunted,  however, 
by  this  charge  of  plagiarism  and  these  sneers,  he 
passed  the  night  meditating  how  he  might  be 
avenged,  and  at  daybreak  began  a  five-act  comedy  in 
verse,12  which  was  produced  successfully  just  a  fort- 
night later,  the  actors  rehearsing  it  act  by  act  as  the 
writing  proceeded.  "Listen  to  me,  fellow-workers," 

11  //  Vecchio  bizzarro.  12  //  Festino. 


216  GOLDONI 

he  exclaimed  regarding  this  proof  that  his  bag  was 
not  empty ;  "the  only  means  we  have  of  being  avenged 
on  the  public  is  to  force  it  to  applaud  us." 

Since  his  contract  did  not  oblige  him  to  follow  the 
troupe  of  the  San  Luca  theatre  to  the  mainland  after 
the  first  two  years  of  his  engagement,  he  made  fewer 
journeys  now  than  he  did  when  he  was  employed 
by  Medebac ;  yet  he  passed  a  summer  at  Bologna  and 
one  at  Parma.  On  his  way  to  the  former  city  he  was 
arrested  at  a  custom-house  near  Ferrara,  because,  as 
he  says  in  his  ingenuous  way,  he  "forgot  to  submit 
his  trunk  for  examination."  Though  it  contained 
illegal  chocolate,  coffee,  and  candles,  the  customs 
officer  who  ransacked  it  found  several  volumes  of 
comedies  as  well,  and  being  an  amateur  actor,  he  was 
so  pleased  to  meet  their  author,  that  instead  of  con- 
fiscating the  contraband  as  the  law  required,  he 
went  to  Ferrara  and  pleaded  for  clemency  with  his 
superiors  with  such  success  that  the  would-be  smug- 
gler was  permitted  to  keep  his  luggage,  after  paying 
a  nominal  duty.  The  official  refused  a  tip,  moreover, 
and  also  a  gift  of  chocolate;  so,  making  a  note  of  his 
name  and  promising  to  send  him  a  copy  of  the  next 
edition  of  his  plays,  Goldoni  fared  on  contentedly  to 
Bologna. 

After  passing  some  months  in  that  city  he  returned 
to  Venice  for  a  few  days,  then  sought  recreation  near 
Padua  at  the  country-house  of  Count  Lodovico  Widi- 
man,  an  amateur  harlequin,  infected,  like  Albergati, 
with  theatromania.  For  performance  in  his  host's 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SAN  LUCA       217 

theatre  he  wrote  some  dramatic  sketches,  and  when 
forced  by  the  ladies  to  act  the  lover  in  one  of  them, 
and  getting  laughed  at  for  his  pains,  he  penned  a 
piece  14  in  which  he  played  four  comic  roles  so  suc- 
cessfully that  he  considered  his  histrionic  honour 
avenged. 

Returning  to  Venice  he  passed  the  winter  there, 
engaged  in  writing  his  covenanted  batch  of  come- 
dies, and  in  the  spring  (1756)  he  went  to  Parma  at 
the  command  of  its  duke,  the  Infante  Don  Philip  of 
Spain,  to  compose  libretti  for  the  use  of  the  Italian 
comic  opera  company  which  His  Royal  Highness  was 
then  establishing.  So  successfully  did  he  accomplish 
this  task  that  he  received  the  title  of  "Court  Poet" 
and  an  annual  pension  of  three  thousand  Parmesan 
lire,  or  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  involving, 
as  he  says,  "no  obligation  whatever,"  the  plays  Don 
Philip  commanded  being  otherwise  requited.15 
Francesco  Vendramin,  too,  made  a  second  and  more 
favourable  contract  with  him  about  this  time;  hence 
he  found  himself  in  easier  circumstances  than  he  had 
ever  been  since  he  began  to  write  professionally  for 
the  stage. 

Don  Philip's  court  was  passing  the  summer  at  Co- 
lorno,  and  there  Goldoni  saw  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  a  troupe  of  French  actors.  Kissing  was  then 
forbidden  on  the  Italian  stage;  so,  when  he  perceived 
a  stage  lover  embracing  his  mistress,  he  shouted 
"bravo"  so  lustily  that  the  punctilious  court  was 

14  La  Flera.  15  Letter  to  G.  A.  Arconati-Visconti,  Oct.  9,  1756. 


218  GOLDONI 

shocked,  till  "the  Italian  author's  surprise"  received 
•'  the  ducal  pardon.  At  Colorno,  he  learned  to  speak 
French  and  there  he  kissed  the  hands  of  so  many 
ladies,  royal  and  otherwise,  and  made  so  many  agree- 
able acquaintances,  that  he  was  loath  to  leave  the 
court.  Returning  to  Venice  for  the  autumn  theatri- 
cal season,  he  revisited  Parma  during  the  winter  and 
worked  diligently  upon  three  merry  musical  plays 
for  his  royal  patron's  opera  troupe.16 

When  he  returned  to  Venice  in  the  spring  of  1757, 
he  found  that  his  enemies  had  spread  abroad  the  news 
of  his  death,  a  certain  monk  having  even  "dared  to 
aver  that  he  had  been  at  his  funeral."  As  Goldoni 
reappeared  not  only  "safe  and  sound,"  but  also  with 
a  ducal  appointment  and  pension,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  "the  anger  and  envy  of  his  rivals  were  excited." 
Indeed,  their  attacks  upon  him  grew  so  bitter  that 
winter  ( 1756-57) ,  that  his  literary  friends  rallied  to  his 
colours  and  defended  him  in  pamphlet  and  pasquin- 
ade. 

Apparently  the  greatest  pleasure  of  the  two  dra- 
matic seasons  preceding  and  following  his  trips  to 
Parma,  was  the  acquaintance  he  formed  with  Ma- 
dame du  Boccage,  a  poetess  "as  lovable  as  she  was 
wise,"  whom  he  styled  "the  Parisian  Sappho."  No 
doubt  "the  agreeable  and  instructive  conversation" 
of  this  femme  savante,  upon  whose  brow  Voltaire 
had  already  placed  a  laurel  crown,  atoned  to  Gol- 
doni in  some  degree  for  the  rancour  of  his  enemies ; 

16  La  Buona  figliuola,  II  Festino,  I   Fiaggiatori   ridicoli. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SAN  LUCA       219 

yet  he  was  harassed  by  overwork  as  well  as  by  malice. 

During  the  first  of  these  seasons  (1756-57)  he  pre- 
sented seven  new  comedies,  "his  Venetian  theatrical 
affairs  being  particularly  fortunate  that  year." lg 
He  found  time  as  well  to  write  for  the  private  stage 
of  his  friend,  the  Marquis  Albergati.  During  the 
season  of  1757-58  he  was  asked  by  a  nephew  of  the 
reigning  Pope,  who  dabbled  in  theatrical  ventures, 
to  visit  Rome  and  write  comedies  for  the  Tordinona 
theatre,  and  never  having  been  in  the  Eternal  City, 
he  accepted  the  invitation,  avidly  glad,  no  doubt,  of 
the  chance  to  escape  from  the  rivals  and  others  who 
were  hectoring  him.  Promising  to  furnish  the  San 
Luca  theatre  with  novelties  during  his  absence,  he 
set  out  in  the  autumn,  he  and  his  good  wife  arriving 
at  Rome  in  December,  after  experiencing  no  mishap 
more  serious  than  that  of  being  choused  at  Loretto  by 
a  vender  of  holy  images. 

The  dilettante  who  had  engaged  Goldoni  invited 
him  to  dine  at  his  palace  and  meet  the  actors  of  the 
Tordinona  theatre,  a  troupe,  as  he  discovered,  of 
Neapolitan  masks,  entirely  without  experience  in 
written  comedy.  Moreover,  in  accordance  with 
Roman  custom,  they  were  all  men,  even  the  soubrette 
being  of  the  masculine  persuasion.  When  he  saw 
this  motley  crew,  Goldoni's  countenance  fell  at  the 
thought  that  his  Venetian  comedies  were  to  be  in- 
terpreted by  Pulcinella  in  the  Neapolitan  dialect. 
He  had  brought  with  him  for  his  Roman  debut  a 

18  Letter  to  G.  A.  Arconati-Visconti,  Dec.  14,  1756. 


220  GOLDONI 

comedy,19  and  while  these  gawky  buffoons,  who  had 
never  acted  written  roles,  were  manfully  struggling 
to  master  their  lines,  he  sought  distraction  from  his 
worries  in  the  sights  and  gaieties  of  Rome. 

Being  introduced  to  several  persons  of  quality 
through  the  letters  he  had  had  the  foresight  to  bring 
with  him  from  Venice,  the  doors  of  Roman  society 
were  rapidly  opened  to  him.  A  cardinal  placed  a 
carriage  at  his  disposal;  another  obtained  for  him 
an  audience  with  the  Pope.  After  conversing  for 
nearly  an  hour  with  His  Holiness  about  his  nephews 
and  nieces,  he  forgot  to  kiss  his  toe  when  retiring, 
whereupon  the  pontiff  hemmed  and  hawed  so  per- 
sistently, that  he  recovered  from  his  absence  of  mind 
sufficiently  to  undo  his  blunder  and  receive  the  bene- 
diction. Every  day  he  saw  cardinals,  princes,  prin- 
cesses, and  foreign  ministers,  he  tells  us,  and  was  all 
but  impoverished  by  the  tips  he  was  obliged,  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  Roman  usage,  to  give  their  valets. 
He  visited  St.  Peter's,  which  beggared  his  descrip- 
tion, and  he  did  not  fail  to  examine  the  other  precious 
monuments  of  the  Holy  City.  Meanwhile  he  lodged 
happily  in  the  Via  Condotti,  near  the  Corso,  with  a 
married  abate,  Pietro  Poloni  by  name,  the  title  of 
abate  being  at  that  time  only  a  generic  or  compli- 
mentary one. 

Though  Poloni  "would  not  have  failed  for  all  the 
gold  in  the  world"  to  pray  every  day  in  St.  Peter's, 
he  was  fond  of  pleasure  and  good  cheer.  There  was 

19  La  Vedova  spiritosa. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SAN  LUCA       221 

always  a  special  dish  on  the  table  at  dinner,  cooked 
by  his  own  hands  for  "his  lodger,"  who  "could  not 
vex  him  more  than  by  dining  out."  Indeed,  on  one 
occasion  when  Goldoni  absented  himself,  the  worthy 
abate  waxed  so  warm  that  he  threw  a  stew-pan  and 
its  savoury  viand  out  of  the  window,  vowing  that  no- 
body should  eat  it  if  not  the  dramatist.  Poloni's 
pride  was  so  flattered  by  having  a  notable  man  be- 
neath his  roof  that  when  maskers  were  showering 
the  occupants  of  carriages  with  confetti  at  carnival 
time,  and  riderless  Barbary  steeds  were  raced  through 
the  Corso  near  by,  he  hung  a  sign  on  his  balcony,  say- 
ing it  was  reserved  for  the  advocate  Goldoni.  He 
invited  so  many  of  his  friends  to  his  house,  however, 
that  his  illustrious  lodger  was  all  but  crowded  off 
the  balcony  reserved  for  him,  his  guests  being  so 
loath  to  leave  the  latter's  distinguished  presence  that 
when  the  day's  sport  was  ended,  Poloni  was  forced 
to  send  for  violins  and  turn  the  rout  into  a  ball,  "the 
night  being  spent  brilliantly  and  everybody  going 
away  happy." 

Yet  long  before  such  glory  was  bestowed  upon  him 
by  his  fawning  host,  Goldoni  was  humiliated  by  the 
actors  of  the  Tordinona  theatre.  A  barber's  boy  and 
a  carpenter's  apprentice  were  cast  for  the  female  parts 
in  the  comedy  he  had  selected  for  his  debut;  and  at 
rehearsal  the  declamation  of  the  entire  company  was 
"so  extravagant  and  absurd"  that  he  protested  vig- 
orously against  "the  utter  lack  of  truth  and  intelli- 
gence" displayed  by  this  troupe  of  Bottoms  and 


222  GOLDONI 

Quinces.  "Every  one  has  his  way,  sir,"  said  the  Pul- 
cinella  tartly,  "and  this  is  ours."  In  order  that  there 
might  be  less  of  it  to  jar  his  hearing,  the  despairing 
dramatist  cut  the  play  a  good  third,  and  tiresome  as 
was  the  task,  he  attended  every  rehearsal. 

The  Tordinona  theatre,  he  discovered,  was  "the 
resort  of  navvies  and  sailors,"  and  on  the  opening 
night  he  sat  in  a  box,  looking  down  upon  a  mere 
baker's  dozen  of  them;  for  when  it  was  noised  abroad 
that  Pulcinella  would  not  appear,  these  lovers  of  im- 
provised comedy  stayed  away  from  their  favourite 
haunt.  "The  curtain  rose;  the  Neapolitan  actors 
played  as  disastrously  as  they  had  rehearsed;  the 
meagre  audience  shouted  lustily  for  their  beloved 
Pulcinella;  the  play  went  from  bad  to  worse."  In 
despair  Goldoni  fled  to  the  opera,  where  his  good 
wife,  foreseeing  the  failure  of  his  comedy,  had  pre- 
ceded him  in  company  with  the  daughter  of  their 
Roman  host.  There  he  found  the  singers  incurring 
the  anger  of  the  pit,  a  balm  to  his  own  chagrin  he  thus 
describes : 

I  entered  the  box,  and  though  I  said  not  a  word,  they  saw  grief 
written  in  my  face.  "Console  yourself,"  said  the  young  woman 
laughingly;  "things  are  not  going  any  better  here;  the  music  is 
not  at  all  pleasing :  not  an  air,  not  a  recitative,  not  a  ritornello  that 
is  making  a  hit.  Buranello  is  extraordinarily  far  from  being  him- 
self." She  was  a  musician,  she  could  judge,  and  you  could  see 
that  everybody  was  of  her  opinion. 

The  Roman  parterre  is  terrible:  the  dbati  sit  in  judgment  both 
vigorously  and  noisily;  there  are  no  guards,  no  police;  cat-calls, 
shouts,  laughter,  invectives,  resound  from  all  parts  of  the  house. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SAN  LUCA       223 

.  .  .  What  would  have  become  of  me,  if  I  had  stayed  at  the  Tor- 
dinona  until  the  end  of  my  play  ?     I  tremble  to  think  of  it. 

Abandoning  all  hope  of  shaping  his  gawky  Nea- 
politans into  adept  comedians,  he  decided  on  the  mor- 
row to  introduce  musical  interludes  between  the  acts 
of  the  improvised  comedies  they  were  accustomed  to 
play;  and  finding  in  the  shops  of  Rome  the  best  of  fi 
his  merry  plays  for  music  on  sale,  he  revived  some  of 
them  so  successfully,  that  his  dilettante  manager  was 
spared  a  heavy  financial  loss.  For  his  failure  at  the 
Tordinona  Goldoni  found  solace  at  the  Capranica 
theatre  where,  it  appears,  his  published  comedies  had 
been  played  successfully  during  several  seasons, 
Pamela  Unmarried  (Pamela  nubile)  being  upon  its 
boards  at  the  time  of  his  visit  to  Rome.  Delighted 
with  the  acting  of  the  Capranica  comedians  in  this 
piece,  he  wrote  a  sequel  for  their  use  which  he  called 
Pamela  Married  (Pamela  maritata),  but  he  left 
Rome  before  it  was  produced  and  was,  therefore, 
spared  the  mortification  of  its  failure. 

He  had  intended  to  visit  Naples  before  returning  to 
his  native  city,  he  says  in  his  memoirs,  and  adds  that  he 
wrote  the  Parmesan  minister  in  Venice  asking  him 
for  Neapolitan  introductions.  As  he  received  no  an- 
swer from  this  diplomat,  he  interpreted  his  silence 
as  an  expression  of  the  ill  feeling  existing  between 
the  courts  of  Parma  and  Naples  and  decided,  there- 
fore, to  abandon  his  journey,  although  assured,  so  he 
states,  of  an  opportunity  to  visit  Naples  "without  it 
costing  him  an  obol."  As  the  tone  of  the  letters  Fran- 


224  GOLDONI 

cesco  Vendramin  wrote  him  at  this  time 20  indicates 
dissatisfaction,  it  seems  more  likely  that  he  abandoned 
his  trip  to  Naples  through  fear  of  managerial  dis- 
pleasure. 

Vendramin,  it  appears,  was  vexed  with  him  not 
only  because  of  the  ill  success  of  some  comedies  he 
had  written  before  his  departure  for  Rome,  notably 
The  Intrepid  Woman  (La  Donna  forte)  which  could 
not  pass  the  censor,  but  also  because  of  his  attempt  to 
introduce  his  copyist  into  the  ranks  of  the  San  Luca 
company  in  the  humble  post  of  terzo  amoroso,  or 
third  juvenile.  This  protege  was  "not  a  kinsman," 
Goldoni  is  careful  to  point  out,  "but  he  had  agreed  to 
assist  him,  and  as  a  Christian  and  a  gentleman,  he  was 
obligated,"  he  says,  "to  give  the  young  man  bread." 
Vendramin,  however,  had  heard  unfavourable  ac- 
counts from  Rome  regarding  the  aspiring  copyist  and 
"did  not  see  what  his  playwright's  obligations  had 
to  do  with  his  own  theatre" ;  therefore  he  demurred 
at  engaging  him.21  Goldoni  did  not  like  his  man- 
ager's attitude  in  this  matter,  nor  the  indifference  of 
the  Venetian  public  toward  his  most  recent  comedies. 
In  a  letter  written  to  Vendramin  at  this  time,22  after 
taking  occasion  to  say  that  not  only  one,  but  two 
Roman  theatres  stood  ready  to  produce  his  works,  he 
thus  unburdens  his  heart  regarding  his  reluctance  to 
return  to  Venice: 

20  Dino  Mantovani :  op.  cit. 

21  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  this  young  man,  Giovanni  Simone  by 
name,   eventually  became   a   successful   comedian;   thereby  proving  that 
Goldoni's  confidence  was  not  misplaced.     See  L.  Rasi:  op.  cit. 

22  Rome,  March  17,   1759. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SAN  LUCA       225 

My  hesitation  does  not  arise  from  fickleness,  calculation,  ill  will, 
nor  even  from  a  desire  for  revenge,  and  much  less  from  an  inade- 
quate realization  of  my  obligations  toward  Your  Excellency,  the 
company,  and  the  Venetian  public,  all  of  whom  I  esteem,  love, 
and  respect;  but  rather  from  being  morally  convinced  that  Your 
Excellency  would  easily  be  persuaded  to  release  me  from  my  en- 
gagement. This  conviction  is  based  upon  the  poor  success  of  my 
comedies  during  the  past  year;  upon  the  restlessness  and  gossip  of 
the  actors,  and  (if  you  will  permit  me  to  say  so)  upon  the  readi- 
ness with  which  Your  Excellency  has  continually  mortified  me 
in  the  matter  of  my  recommendation  of  my  young  protege.  All 
this  causes  me  to  believe  that  I  might  be  quietly  left  in  peace  for 
a  year  at  least,  and  the  absence  of  a  year  does  not  disturb  our 
agreement  for  ten  successive  years,  should  the  two  parties  come  to 
an  understanding  on  this  point. 

But  Vendramin  did  not  view  favourably  a  prolong- 
ing of  his  playwright's  absence;  therefore  Goldoni 
parted  from  his  solicitous  host,  Poloni,  in  the  middle 
of  a  noxious  Roman  summer,  and  retreating  from  the 
field  of  his  artistic  defeat,  he  retired  to  Bologna, 
where  he  remained  more  than  two  months  preparing 
material  for  the  Venetian  theatrical  season,  and  im- 
portuning Vendramin  by  letter  to  pay  for  the  come- 
dies he  was  sending  him.  First,  while  still  in  Rome, 
he  asks  for  the  bonus  of  a  hundred  ducats  Vendramin 
had  agreed  to  pay  him  semi-annually  as  long  as  his 
work  was  satisfactory, — a  sum  the  manager  sends  re- 
luctantly; then,  from  Bologna,  he  asks  for  a  hundred 
and  fifty  more  on  account  of  two  plays  finished  and 
forwarded  to  Venice,  the  matter  of  money  having  be- 
come truly  "the  important  point,"  he  says,  for  he  has 
had  to  borrow  six  sequins,  and  moreover,  he  must 


226  GOLDONI 

settle  the  debts  his  brother  has  contracted  at  Modena. 
In  truth,  his  letters  to  Vendramin  at  this  time  show 
distrust  and  weariness.  He  is  convinced  the  manager 
is  annoyed  with  him,  and  he  begs  once  more  for  the 
release  he  will  be  constrained  to  take  himself  after 
the  year  is  ended.  He  will  not  ask  again  for  money, 
he  continues,  which  is  not  forthcoming,  since  God 
will  provide  for  him.  "When  I  do  not  write,  I  am 
criticized,"  he  laments,  "and  when  I  do  I  am  tor- 
mented. Be  charitable  with  me,"  he  implores  Ven- 
dramin, "and  display  that  sympathy  you  were  wont 
to  show  in  our  conversations."  23 

Although  depressed  by  failure  and  by  debt,  and  ap- 
parently distrustful  of  his  own  genius,  Goldoni  strove 
diligently  to  retrieve  his  fortunes  by  means  of  an 
elaborate  theatrical  scheme  he  presented  to  Vendra- 
min at  the  same  time  that  he  was  quarrelling  about 
the  funds  he  believed  to  be  his  due.  He  planned  to 
write  nine  plays,  each  symbolic  of  a  muse,  "and 
varying,"  as  he  says,  "in  metre  and  conception,"  the  se- 
ries to  be  introduced  by  a  versified  prologue,24  in 
which  Apollo  and  the  Muses  were  to  appear  and,  as  in 
the  case  of  The  Comic  Theatre,  describe  the  author's 
plan  to  the  Venetian  public.  But  Vendramin,  per- 
haps from  a  desire  to  keep  Goldoni  within  bounds, 
was  loath  to  approve  of  the  scheme  in  its  entirety. 
For  fully  two  months  letters  were  passing  between 
Venice  and  Bologna,  Goldoni  enthusiastically  up- 
holding his  plan  as  "something  at  once  extraordinary 

23Dino  Mantovani:  op.  cit.  24//  Monte  parnasso. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SAN  LUCA        227 

and  practical,"  and  Vendramin  opposing  it  at  first, 
then  acquiescing,  albeit  reluctantly.  Meanwhile,  the 
dramatist  was  clamouring  for  money,  but  not  until 
Vendramin  informed  him  that  the  final  ducats  he 
demanded  must  be  collected  by  him  in  person,  did  he 
show  a  willingness  to  start  for  his  native  city. 

In  his  memoirs  he  says  that  in  returning  from  Rome 
to  Venice  he  passed  through  Tuscany,  where  he  re- 
visited Pisa,  Leghorn,  and  Lucca,  and  "began  to  bid 
adieu  to  Italy  without  knowing  that  he  was  soon  to 
leave  it  for  ever."  As  he  did  not  depart  from  Rome 
until  the  first  days  of  July,  and  had  reached  Bologna 
by  the  seventeenth  of  that  month,  his  trip  through 
Tuscany,  if  made  on  the  way  to  the  latter  city,  was 
hurried  indeed.  As  he  remained  in  Bologna,  accord- 
ing to  his  own  letters,  two  months  and  a  half,  and  had 
reached  Venice  prior  to  October  I3th,25  it  seems  un- 
likely that  he  went  two  hundred  miles  or  more  out 
of  his  way  at  a  moment  when  Vendramin  was  urging 
him  to  hasten  back  for  the  opening  of  the  theatrical 
season.  However  this  may  be,  he  had  reached  Ven- 
ice in  the  beginning  of  October,  1759,  after  an  absence 
of  nearly  a  year,  and  there  resumed  actively  his  post 
as  poet  of  the  San  Luca  theatre. 

During  his  absence  he  had  sent  the  Vendramins 
several  plays,  the  last  being  a  comedy  2Q  inspired  by 
the  lovers'  quarrels  he  had  witnessed  in  the  family 

25  Goldoni's  letter  of  this  date  in  Masi's  Lettere  dl   Carlo    Goldoni, 
and  the  correspondence  between  Francesco  Vendramin  and  Goldoni  from 
June  23  to  Sept.  n,  1759,  in  Mantovani's  collection. 

26  Gil  Innamorati. 


228  GOLDONI 

of  his  Roman  host.  The  most  notable  event,  how- 
ever, of  the  season  following  his  return  from  Rome 
was  the  presentation  toward  its  close  of  The  Boors 
(I  Rusteghi),  a  comedy  in  which  his  naturalistic  gen- 
ius stands  forth  pre-eminent;  while  during  the  fol- 
lowing winter  he  produced  The  New  House  (La 
Casa  nova)  and  The  Chioggian  Brawls  (Le  Baruffe 
Chiozzotte),  two  other  plays  in  dialect  that  vie  with 
The  Boors  in  naturalistic  mastery.27  Thus  gloriously 
was  Roman  defeat  retrieved  by  Venetian  victory. 

When  the  second  season  subsequent  to  his  return 
had  been  brought  to  a  successful  finish,  Goldoni  was 
able  to  announce  triumphantly  at  a  Lenten  supper  of 
his  friends  the  forthcoming  publication  of  a  new  sub- 
scription edition  of  his  plays.28  As  the  guests  had 
"eaten  every  fish  from  the  Adriatic  to  the  Lake  of 
Garda,"  and  "the  wine  and  other  liquors  had  cheered 
them,"  the  moment  was  auspicious  for  the  launching 
of  a  literary  venture ;  so,  when  paper  and  pens  were 
brought,  each  of  the  eighteen  gentlemen  present  sub- 
scribed for  ten  copies,  the  author — to  quote  his  own 
words — "catching  by  one  cast  of  his  net  a  hundred 
and  eighty  subscriptions."  Yet,  in  spite  of  the  liber- 
ality of  his  friends  and  the  success  of  his  masterly 
comedies,  he  was  growing  weary  of  struggling  in- 
gloriously  with  inferior  craftsmen  for  the  public's 
favour;  therefore,  when  he  received  from  Paris  the 
offer  of  a  two  years'  engagement  with  Les  Comediens 

27  In  his  memoirs  Goldoni  places  the  production  of  /  Rusteghi  in  1757, 
but  it  took  place  in  1760.     See  Appendix  A. 

28  The  Pasquali   edition,   1761. 


PLAYWRIGHT  OF  SAN  LUCA       229 

du  rol  de  la  troupe  italienne,  he  turned  a  willing  ear. 
But  before  the  story  of  his  long  and  futile  battle 
with  rivals  and  critics  is  told,  together  with  his  touch- 
ing farewell  to  his  native  land,  a  detour  must  be  made 
into  the  dramatic  field  where  he  laboured  so  diligently 
during  the  fourteen  years  of  his  service  with  Mede- 
bac  and  the  Vendramins.  He  wrote  during  those 
years,  it  will  be  recalled,  approximately  a  hundred 
comedies,  several  tragedies  and  tragi-comedies,  and 
over  fifty  merry  plays  for  music,  in  all  a  prodigious 
literary  output.  The  most  brilliant,  as  well  as  the 
most  prolific  period  of  his  career,  it  was  graced,  as 
has  already  been  pointed  out,  by  all  his  masterpieces 
except  one.  Of  the  comedies  written  during  these 
fecund  years,  about  seventy  are  in  prose.  As  the  most 
ambitious  of  the  thirty-odd  pieces  in  verse  written 
at  this  time  were  inspired  by  literary  quarrels  still 
to  be  narrated,  the  account  of  these  versified  come- 
dies, as  well  as  the  story  of  the  bickerings  that  in- 
spired a  few  of  them,  will  be  deferred  until  the  prose 
comedies  of  this  glorious  period  shall  have  been  ex- 
amined. These,  it  will  be  remembered,  are  not 
grouped  structurally  in  the  present  work,  but  in  ac- 
cordance with  their  social  aspects,  the  four  chapters 
that  follow  being  devoted  to  their  exposition. 


VIII 

COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY 

VENICE,  "the  Sybaris  of  Europe,"  as  Ugo 
Foscolo,  the  poet  and  man  of  letters,  called 
her,  was  in  Goldoni's  day  an  enchanting 
haunt  for  the  idle  and  the  dissipated.  "Free  and 
happy  abode  of  pleasure  and  beauty,"  said  Algarotti, 
the  Venetian  friend  of  William  Pitt,  an  opinion  con- 
curred in  by  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  and  many 
another  globe  trotter  of  that  time.  Into  the  councils 
of  Europe  Venice  no  longer  entered  with  her  proud 
head  erect.  Her  diplomacy  was  all  cringing  court- 
esy, her  attitude  that  of  an  armed — nay,  rather  an  un- 
armed— neutrality;  for  her  strength  had  waned,  and 
the  role  she  played  was  that  of  Pantalone  in  his  slip- 
pered dotage — a  weak  though  crafty  old  republic, 
ever  distrustful  of  those  about  her. 

Cutting  this  sorry  figure  abroad,  she  was  so  senilely 
indulgent  at  home  that  her  children  did  as  they 
pleased  provided  they  did  not  meddle  with  politics 
or  religion.  Indeed,  she  was  perpetually  en  fete,  "a 
lightsome,  wanton  city  of  masquerades,  serenades, 
travesties  and  amusements,  whence  golden-oared 
barks  departed  for  Cythera  by  paper  lantern  light."  1 

1  Philippe  Monnier:  op.  cit. 
230 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY    231 

With  two  hundred  cafes  that  never  closed  their  doors ; 
with  five  times  as  many  theatres  as  the  Parisians  then 
enjoyed;  with  a  Ridotto,  or  municipal  gaming-house, 
where  both  men  and  women  punted  at  faro;  with 
casini,  or  gambling  clubs;  and  countless  resorts  of 
an  even  more  questionable  character,  the  inhabitants 
of  Venice  did  not  lack  the  means  of  turning  night 
into  day.  Indeed,  in  the  words  of  a  Venetian  com- 
mentator, "There  were  no  nights  in  Venice;  there 
shone  eternal  day." 2  Except  for  a  small  and  morose 
minority  of  austere  merchants  to  whom  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  past  still  clung,  the  population  of  this 
pleasure-loving  city  was  a  festival  population  living 
in  the  streets  or  on  the  moonlit  canals — a  people 
seeking  pleasure  or  catering  to  pleasure,  for,  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  Venice  vied  so  successfully  with 
Paris  as  the  pleasure  house  of  Europe  that  athe  Car- 
nival of  Venice"  spelled  languorous,  insidious  de- 
light. 

And  what  a  carnival  it  was,  of  time,  as  well  as  of 
blithesome  pleasure!  While  its  merry  king  reigned, 
all  Venice,  from  the  patrician  to  the  humblest  drone, 
went  masked.  In  the  streets,  the  drawing-rooms,  the 
theatres,  convents,  palaces,  or  gaming-houses,  all  were 
equal  if  shielded  by  a  mystic  strip  of  white  satin. 
There  was  but  one  personality  to  be  respected — Sior 
Maschera.  To  quote  that  consummate  rogue,  Casa- 
nova: "The  nobility  mingled  with  the  people,  the 

2Luigi   Orteschi:  Sulle  passioni,  i   costumi   e  il  modo   di   vivere   de* 
Veneziani. 


232  GOLDONI 

prince  with  his  subjects,  the  uncommon  with  the  com- 
mon, the  beautiful  with  the  hideous,  there  being  no 
longer  either  magistrates  or  laws  in  force."  3 

A  little  mass  for  the  morning,  a  little  game  of  cards 
for  the  afternoon,  and  a  little  sweetheart  for  the  even- 
ing (massetta,  bassetta,  e  donnetta)  was  the  formula 
of  Venetian  life.  A  winter  of  carnival  with  Folly 
continuously  shaking  her  bells,  a  summer  of  idle 
pleasure  on  the  banks  of  the  Brenta,  was  the  Venetian 
nobleman's  calendar — an  unbridled  year  of  gaiety; 
for  even  in  Lent,  though  the  theatres  were  closed,  the 
door  of  the  gaming-house  stood  open  and  that  of  the 
little  sweetheart's  boudoir  would  open  to  a  gentle 
knock. 

"The  Sybaris  of  Europe!"  Foscolo  knew  well  the 
frailty  of  a  city  wealthy  like  that  Lucanian  town  to 
which  he  compared  her,  and,  like  her,  enervated  by 
luxury.  Goldoni  knew,  too,  that  his  native  Venice 
was  morally  corrupt,  and,  in  his  kindly  way,  he 
preached  many  a  true  sermon  on  the  social  depravity 
of  his  day.  In  a  score  or  more  of  his  comedies,  Vene- 
tian society  is  shown,  idle,  luxurious,  incontinent,  and 
prodigal;  but,  though  he  paints  the  vices  of  his  native 
Venice,  he  points  helpful,  optimistic  morals  too,  and 
not  once  does  he  admit  that  society  is  hopelessly  rotten 
or  incapable  of  betterment.  His  plays  of  this  nature 
are  no  longer  harlequinades,  but  genuine  comedies 
of  manners,  in  which  the  society  of  an  age  is  pictured 
in  vivid  colours  by  the  sprightly  brush  strokes  of  a 

3  Confutazione    della    storia    del    governo    veneto,    d'Amelot    de    la 
Houssaye. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY     233 

genial  painter,  familiar  from  birth  with  the  scenes 
and  people  he  portrayed. 

The  spirit  of  carnival  permeates  The  Artful  Widow 
(La  Vedova  scaltra),  a  comedy  written  during 
Goldoni's  first  season  as  the  playwright  of  the  Sant' 
Angelo  Theatre,  and  the  first  of  his  plays  that  may 
be  justly  called  a  comedy  of  manners.  Here  is  pic- 
tured the  pleasure-loving  cosmopolitanism  of  Venice 
after  her  glory  had  departed — Venice,  the  play- 
ground of  Europe  at  carnival  time;  here  only  a  sug- 
gestion of  the  Improvised  Comedy  remains,  Panta- 
lone  and  II  Dottore,  except  for  the  former's  Venetian 
speech,  being  no  longer  masks  but  the  conventional 
old  men  of  the  modern  stage — the  one,  an  elderly 
suitor;  the  other,  the  father  of  marriageable  daugh- 
ters. To  be  sure,  the  deliciously  funny  lazzl  of  Ar- 
lecchino  hold  the  play  together;  but  these  lazzi,  be- 
sides being  written,  are  necessary  to  the  unfolding 
of  the  story,  and  this  particular  Arlecchino — a  doltish 
waiter  at  a  coffee-house,  who  is  ever  bobbing  up  in  a 
way  so  muddy-brained  that  the  plot  is  thickened 
thereby — is  so  delightful  a  characterization  that  he 
may  be  called  the  apotheosis  of  Arlecchino. 

The  story  concerns  an  attractive  widow,  for  whose 
hand  a  stolid  Briton,  a  proud  Spaniard,  a  light- 
hearted  Frenchman,  and  an  ardent  Italian,  vie.  The 
Briton  sends  her  a  jewel;  the  Frenchman,  a  portrait 
of  himself;  the  Spaniard,  his  family  tree;  the  Italian, 
naught  but  words  of  fervent  love.  These  gifts,  Ar- 
lecchino, the  bearer,  so  confuses  that  Rosaura,  the 


234  GOLDONI 

winsome  protagonist,  is  for  a  time  at  a  loss  to  under- 
stand from  whom  each  present  comes.  Rosaura  is 
artful,  as  the  name  of  the  play  implies,  yet  possessed 
of  good  common  sense.  Though  anxious  to  remarry 
in  order  to  be  free  from  bonds  imposed  by  her  father 
and  her  brother-in-law,  she  is  resolved  not  to  choose 
a  husband  from  among  the  international  quartette  of 
lovers  pursuing  her  until  she  is  satisfied  that  her  sec- 
ond husband  will  prove  more  satisfactory  than  the 
first,  her  lord  and  master  on  that  occasion  having 
been  a  doddering  rich  man.  Her  quandary,  and  the 
sagacity  with  which  she  views  it,  are  best  told  in  her 
own  words : 

Here  am  I  with  four  lovers,  each  of  whom  has  his  merits  and 
his  eccentricities.  The  Italian  is  faithful,  yet  too  jealous;  the 
Englishman,  ingenuous  but  fickle;  the  Frenchman,  gallant  but  too 
affected ;  the  Spaniard,  passionate  but  too  sombre.  Wishing  to 
be  free  from  family  subjection,  I  see  that  I  must  choose  one  of 
them,  but  which  I  cannot  yet  discern.  I  fear,  however,  that  I 
should  prefer  the  Italian  count  to  all  the  others,  although  he 
sometimes  annoys  me  with  his  jealous  suspicions.  He  was  the 
first  to  declare  himself,  and,  moreover,  he  has  the  advantage  over 
the  others  of  being  a  fellow-countryman — a  decided  advantage  in 
every  land  on  earth. 

In  order  to  satisfy  herself  regarding  their  fidelity, 
she  goes  forth  in  mask  and  domino  at  carnival  time 
to  flirt  with  her  admirers  one  by  one,  while  feigning 
J  to  be  the  countrywoman  of  each.  Having  wrung  a 
token  of  love  from  all  except  the  Italian,  together  with 
the  promise  of  a  rendezvous,  she  scorns  British 
wealth,  French  conceit,  and  Spanish  pride  for  true 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY     235 

Italian  love,  the  fickleness  of  her  foreign  admirers 
being  unmasked  by  a  disclosure  of  the  souvenirs  each 
has  given  her  while  believing  her  to  be  a  charming 
compatriot  on  amorous  adventure  bent.  Her  hand 
being  awarded  the  faithful,  though  jealous,  Italian, 
this  spirited  picture  of  patrician  Venice  at  carnival 
time  comes  to  a  happy  conclusion. 

Indeed,  this  play  is  a  patriotic  comedy,  in  which 
Venetian  upper-class  society  is  depicted  gallantly  by 
a  loving  son  of  Venice.  The  licence  of  the  Carnival 
is  used,  however,  as  a  dainty  pink  fan  to  hide  an  art- 
ful widow's  efforts  to  discern  which  of  four  admirers 
loves  her  most,  instead  of  as  a  scarlet  cloak  for  the 
libertinage  that  made  the  Venice  of  that  day  the 
Mecca  of  pleasure-loving  foreigners.  Not  only  does 
patriotism  inspire  Goldoni's  scenes,  but  a  modern- 
ness  as  well,  far  in  advance  of  the  times,  as  when 
Rosaura  exclaims,  "Those  laws  that  dispose  of  wom- 
en's hearts  at  the  cost  of  their  undoing  are,  alas!  too 
barbarous."  In  truth,  this  charming  comedy  was  a 
bold  step  forward,  for  here  Italy  had  a  worthy  writ- 
ten comedy  of  its  own,  with  both  atmosphere  and 
characterization;  its  patriotic  spirit  being  thus  ex- 
pressed by  the  artful  widow  herself : 

I  pride  myself  on  being  of  a  land  where  good  taste  reigns  as 
much  as  anywhere  else  in  the  world.  Italy  to-day  frames  the 
rules  for  good  manners:  she  represents  what  is  best  in  all  coun- 
tries, leaving  to  them  what  is  undesirable;  a  fact  that  makes  her 
wonderful,  and  enamours  the  people  of  all  lands  with  a  sojourn  on 
her  shores. 

Yet  in   spite   of   this   patriotic   utterance,    light- 


236  GOLDONI 

hearted  Venice  was  living  then,  for  the  joy  of  living 
it,  a  careless  life  of  idleness  and  gratification.  Her 
streets,  her  cafes  and  her  gaming-houses  were 
thronged  with  merrymakers  in  carnival  garb;  trou- 
ble-makers, too,  since,  under  the  graceful  folds  of  the 
carnival  domino,  ardent  hands  were  often  clasped 
while  a  rendezvous  was  being  whispered  by  rouged 
lips  hidden  beneath  the  carnival  mask.  Away  from 
the  crowded  Piazza,  away  from  the  Ridotto  where 
gamblers  with  flushed  faces  punted  at  faro,  many  a 
gondola  sped  swiftly,  the  moonlit  water  of  the  canal 
lapping  its  long,  black  prow.  While  dripping  oars 
creaked  and  nimble  gondoliers  sang  plaintively  to 
the  rhythm  of  their  sweeping  strokes,  many  a  pair  of 
lovers  caressed  beneath  a  dark  canopy.  At  many  a 
sombre  water-door,  a  gondola  lay  tugging  at  its 
moorings,  its  gondoliers  waiting  for  Cupid's  votaries 
within ;  for  of  that  decaying  age  it  may  be  said  truth- 
fully, Rien  ne  pese  et  rlen  ne  dure — least  of  all  mari- 
tal vows. 

Love,  a  naked  little  urchin  of  the  canals,  brimful 
of  mirth,  but  without  a  tittle  of  moral  sense,  was  here, 
there,  and  everywhere,  darting  from  heart  to  heart 
and  whispering  tempting  words — at  the  Ridotto 
while  the  gambler  staked  his  sequins ;  in  a  box  at  the 
theatre  while  dull  buffoons  repeated  their  time-worn 
lazzi,  in  the  crowded  Piazza,  at  the  bottega  del  caffe, 
the  conversazione,  and  even  the  convent,  where  the 
nuns  wore  low-cut  gowns  and  frizzed  their  hair. 
The  tales  the  tawny  gondoliers  might  have  told  had 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY     237 

they  willed  doubtless  would  have  put  those  of  Casa- 
nova to  shame,  but  they  knew  the  value  of  silence. 
'  'Voga,'  they  said,  and  having  spat  in  the  water,  they 
bent  to  the  oar  in  silence,  bearing  toward  oblivion 
the  wavering  mystery  of  a  frail  coffin  of  love."  4 

Society  not  only  winked  at  infidelity,  but  actually 
legitimatized  it;  legitimatized  infidelity  being  no 
contradiction  in  terms  when  applied  to  the  fashiona- 
ble married  life  in  Venice  in  the  eighteenth  century, 
where  every  woman  of  fashion,  to  keep  her  social 
standing,  must  be  attended  in  public  by  her  cicisbeo, 
or,  as  he  was  also  called,  her  cavalier  servente,  a  spe- 
cies of  lover-footman  ever  ready  to  offer  her  his  arm, 
to  carry  her  gloves,  her  muff,  or  even  her  poodle-dog. 
At  the  church  door,  the  cicisbeo  proffered  his  lady 
holy  water  daintily  from  his  finger-tips ;  kneeling  be- 
side her  in  the  nave,  he  held  her  prayer-book  open  at 
the  lesson  of  the  day;5  the  service  ended,  he  called 
her  gondola,  and  reclining  beside  her  on  the  soft 
cushions,  talked  fondly  of  love,  while  claiming  love's 
abandonments.  On  the  promenade,  at  the  theatre  or 
the  gambling-house,  he  was  ever  by  her  side.  At  my 
lady's  toilette  in  the  morning,  he  must  preside,  to 
offer  counsel  as  to  the  modish  arrangement  of  her 

4  Philippe  Monnier:  op.  cit. 

5  The  use  of  places  of  worship  for  rendezvous  and  love-making  had 
become  so  notorious  that  the  Council  of  Ten,  on  March  3,  1797,  finally 
promulgated  an  order  to  the  effect  that  "decency  in  churches  must  be 
more  severely  respected,"  forbidding  women  to  come  to  the  service  im- 
modestly   dressed,    and    authorizing   church    authorities   "if   need   be,   to 
proceed  with  rigour  against  the  guilty  connivance  of  fathers  and  hus- 
bands." 


238  GOLDONI 

beribboned  scuffia  upon  the  very  scented  curls  he  had 
helped  to  arrange,  ay,  even  to  lace  her  stays,  fasten 
her  garters,  or,  kneeling  with  her  dainty  shoe  upon 
his  bended  knee,  to  tie  the  laces  with  the  tact  and 
grace  of  a  well-bred  cavalier,  for,  if  he  served  my 
lady  not  well,  it  was  her  privilege  to  dismiss  him  per- 
emptorily and  choose  a  successor. 

And  what  of  her  lord  and  master  meanwhile?  Al- 
though the  cicisbeo  might  enter  my  lady's  boudoir  un- 
announced, her  husband  must  knock,  and  if  by  chance 
he  were  present  at  the  morning  toilette,  either  nod 
approvingly  or  offer  expert  criticism  on  the  manner 
of  the  cicisbeo's  service.  But  the  husband  seldom 
bothered  his  wife  at  the  hour  of  the  morning  toilette — 
or  at  any  other  hour,  for  that  matter — his  duty  being  to 
serve  some  other  man's  wife  just  as  assiduously  as 
some  other  man  served  his,  this  infectious  interpreta- 
tion of  the  golden  rule  being  the  governing  law  of 
cicisbeism.  Though,  in  some  instances,  the  cicisbeo 
was  a  true  serving-knight  who  did  not  overstep  his 
privileges,  such  a  social  system  could  lead  to  naught 
but  a  general  debauchery  of  morals ;  for,  if  my  lady 
must  be  in  the  fashion,  so  must  the  grisette,  who,  to 
quote  an  Italian  of  the  day,  would  "rather  be  without 
bread  than  without  a  cavalier  servente."  Goldoni 
himself  thus  summarizes  the  life  of  the  ladies  who 
were  attended  by  cavalieri  serventi  in  one  of  his  merry 
plays  for  music:6 

6  Bertoldo,  Bertoldino,  e  Cacasenno. 


CICISBEI    AND    MY    LADY 


Museo   Correr 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY     239 

The  practises  I'll  frankly  tell  to  you 

Of  every  city  lady  fair : 
Two  cicisbei  in  her  retinue, 

One  stationed  here,  the  other  there; 
For  aye  her  head  turns,  full  inclined  to  try 
A  soft  glance  here,  and  there  a  sigh." 

Cicisbeism  originated  in  Spain.  There,  when  a 
husband  could  not  go  abroad  with  his  wife,  it  was  the 
rule  that  she  must  be  accompanied  by  a  young  kins- 
man whose  duty  it  was  to  protect  her  against  the  im- 
portunities of  gallants.  Introduced  into  Italy,  this 
custom  was  adopted  as  a  new  cry  of  fashion,  but  with- 
out the  relationship  feature.  Planted  first  at  Genoa, 
this  exotic  soon  flourished  at  Bologna  and  Florence. 
Loath  to  accept  Spanish  manners,  Venice  was  slower 
in  sowing  its  seeds,  yet  there,  too,  it  finally  waxed  into 
a  noxious  overgrowth. 

There  was  need  for  a  patriot  with  the  courage  to 
denounce  it,  when  Goldoni  arose  in  the  market  place 
to  say  that  cicisbeism  was  a  disgrace  to  Venice ;  yet 
he  said  it  in  a  way  so  satirically  suave  that,  far  from 
being  offended,  Venice  laughed  heartily.  Less  vig- 
orous in  his  strictures  upon  society  than  Parini,  the 
first  notable  poet  of  modern  Italy,  he  fought  with  a 
rapier — nay,  rather  with  a  buttoned  foil,  which, 
touching  society's  defenceless  points,  betrayed  its 
weakness  without  the  infliction  of  painful  wounds,  his 
kindness  and  sanity  preventing  him  from  riding  full 
tilt  at  stone  walls  or  windmills.  His  people  are  the 
every-day  people  of  an  every-day  world,  not  majestic 
world  types  such  as  Shakespeare  and  Moliere  created. 


24o  GOLDONI 

Moreover,  he  was  unaware  that  the  moral  cracks  in 
his  age  were  a  serious  menace  to  its  stability;  so  he 
lived  tranquilly,  without  fear  of  the  morrow,  attack- 
ing the  moral  rottenness  of  cicisbeism  in  a  kindly,  de- 
cent way,  because,  as  he  says,  "I  had  long  regarded 
with  astonishment  those  singular  beings,  called  in 
Italy  cicisbei,  who  are  martyrs  to  gallantry  and  slaves 
to  the  whims  of  the  fair  sex." 

In  nearly  a  score  of  his  comedies  of  manners,  cicis- 
beism is  handled;7  a  subject  he  was  obliged  to  treat 
with  discretion,  the  patricians  of  Venice  brooking  no 
criticism  of  their  caste.  Whenever  it  seemed  likely 
that  offence  might  be  given,  he  laid  the  scene  else- 
where than  in  Venice ;  hence,  when  cicisbeism  became 
the  subject  of  his  satire,  cities  where  hateful  Spaniards 
ruled,  were  discreetly  chosen  as  the  scene.  More- 
over, the  nobility  he  depicts  is  the  lesser  nobility — 
the  marquises  and  counts — never  the  princes  and 
dukes.  In  his  Torquato  Tasso,  for  instance,  the  Duke 
of  Ferrara — necessary  for  the  unfolding  of  the  plot 
— is  referred  to  by  the  various  characters  but  is  never 
shown  upon  the  stage.8  In  his  impeachment  of  the 
depraved  society  of  his  day,  his  daring  does  not  equal 
that  of  Moliere,  who  lived  in  an  even  more  despotic 

7 II  Cavalier e  e  la  dama,  La  Famiglia  dell'  antiquario,  La  Dama 
prudente,  La  Moglie  saggia,  La  Villeggiatura,  II  Festino,  La  Sposa 
sagace,  La  Casa  nova,  Le  Femmine  puntigliose,  II  Cavaliere  di  buon 
gusto,  II  Geloso  avaro,  L'Adulatore,  II  Cavaliere  di  spirito,  L'Uomo 
prudente,  I  Rusteghi. 

8  "The  mistrustful  Venetian  aristocracy  would  never  have  tolerated 
the  portrayal  and  revelation  of  itself  upon  the  stage  in  the  ignoble  sight 
of  the  subject  multitude."  Giuseppe  Guerzoni:  //  Teatro  italiano  net 
secolo  XVI1L 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY     241 

age;  yet  during  the  eighteenth  century,  all  Italian 
writers  of  comedy  attacked  the  follies  of  society,  par- 
ticularly cicisbeism,  with  timidity;  therefore  it  seems 
unjust  to  charge  Goldoni  with  an  undue  want  of  cour- 
age. 

Although  cicisbeism  is  depicted  strikingly  in  The 
Cavalier  and  the  Lady  (II  Cavaliere  e  la  dama),  it 
is  but  an  atmospheric  background  for  the  virtue  of 
Eleonora,  a  poor  but  estimable  lady,  whose  husband 
has  been  banished,  and  whom,  to  quote  her  own 
words,  "necessity  can  never  teach  to  forget  her  duty." 
Although  she  lives  humbly  with  a  faithful  hand- 
maiden, and  endeavours  to  fill  an  empty  larder  with 
the  proceeds  of  her  fancy  work,  an  unscrupulous  law- 
yer, with  a  case  to  prosecute  for  her,  empties  her  purse 
as  rapidly  as  a  generous  landlord  and  a  constant  lover 
find  surreptitious  means  of  filling  it.  Don  Rodrigo, 
the  latter,  foils  the  lawyer,  however,  and  meanwhile 
loves  Eleonora  truly  but  respectfully  throughout 
three  sentimental  acts,  until  her  husband,  dying  an 
exile,  bequeaths  her  to  him.  Moreover,  he  is  a  moral 
exponent,  his  refusal  to  fight  a  duel  being  the  source 
of  many  a  sneer  on  the  part  of  the  patrician  box-hold- 
ers, yet  a  merited  rebuke  to  a  savage  custom. 

And  what  of  cicisbeism?  the  reader  will  ask,  Don 
Rodrigo  being  not  a  real  but  an  ideal  cicisbeo — kind, 
faithful,  and  discreet.  This  faultless  hero  and  his 
immaculate  sweetheart,  to  quote  Goldoni,  are  "two 
virtuous  people  who  serve  as  a  contrast  to  the  ridicu- 
lous people"  against  whom  the  satire  of  the  play  is  di- 


242  GOLDONI 

rected,  sprightly  scenes  that  expose  society's  foibles 
being  interspersed  with  the  lachrymose  scenes. 

Though  Eleonora  and  Rodrigo  make  love  in  the 
mawkish  way  of  Richardson  and  his  school,  men  and 
women  of  fashion  appear  who  are  drawn  to  the  life 
— Don  Flaminio  and  Donna  Claudia,  his  wife;  Don 
Alonso,  the  latter's  cicisbeo  from  a  sense  of  duty 
rather  than  choice;  and  Donna  Flaminia,  the  lady 
whom  Claudia's  husband  serves.  Donna  Claudia, 
however,  is  the  arch  worlding  of  them  all,  une  femme 
detraquee,  such  as  French  boudoir  novelists  delight  in 
depicting.  Witness  this  scene,  in  which,  arising  long 
after  the  sun  has  crossed  the  meridian,  she  nags  her 
poor  footman  to  distraction : 

CLAUDIA 

Balestra. 

BALESTRA 

Your  ladyship! 

CLAUDIA 

Bring  me  that  small  table. 

BALESTRA 

Does  your  ladyship  wish  anything  else? 

CLAUDIA 

No.     (Exit  Balestra.)     My   callers  are  late  this  morning. — 
Balestra. 

BALESTRA   (Re-entering.) 
Your  ladyship! 

CLAUDIA 

Havre  you  seen  Don  Alonso? 

BALESTRA 

No,  your  ladyship. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY    243 

CLAUDIA 

That  will  do.  (Exit  Balestra.)  My  cavalier  is  becoming  ne- 
glectful. I  am  afraid  he's  growing  a  trifle  cold.  He  no  longer 
comes  to  take  his  morning  chocolate  with  me.  (Calls.)  Balestra. 

BALESTRA   (Re-entering.) 
Your  ladyship! 

CLAUDIA 

Bring  me  a  chair. 

BALESTRA 

Here,  your  ladyship. 

CLAUDIA 

(Seating  herself.)  (Aside.)  At  this  hour  my  husband  is 
surely  paying  his  respects  to  his  lady-love.  (To  Balestra.)  What 
are  you  doing,  standing  there  stiff  as  a  poker? 

BALESTRA 

Awaiting  your  ladyship's  orders. 

CLAUDIA 

When  I  wish  you,  I'll  call. 

BALESTRA 

Yes,  your  ladyship.     (Exit  Balestra.) 

CLAUDIA 

It  bores  me  to  distraction  to  be  alone. — Balestra. 
(Re-enter  Balestra.) 

CLAUDIA 

Balestra. 

BALESTRA 

Here,  your  ladyship. 

CLAUDIA 

Why  didn't  you  answer,  you  donkey? 

BALESTRA 

I  thought  your  ladyship  saw  me.     (Aside.)     Pest  take  her. 

CLAUDIA 
What  time  did  your  master  go  out? 


244  GOLDONI 


BALESTRA 

At  eight  o'clock,9  your  ladyship.     (Starts  to  leave.) 

CLAUDIA 

Wait.     Did  he  leave  no  word  ? 

BALESTRA 

None,  your  ladyship. 

CLAUDIA 

You  may  go.     That's  all  I  wish. 

BALESTRA 

I  go,  I  go.     (Exit.) 

CLAUDIA 

If  no  caller  comes,  I'll  go  to  see  Donna  Virginia. — Balestra. 

BALESTRA    (Re-entering.) 
Your  ladyship ! 

CLAUDIA 

Tell  the  coachman  to  harness  the  horses. 

BALESTRA 

Yes,  your  ladyship.     (Exit.) 

CLAUDIA 

But  to  go  driving  without  a  cavalier?  No,  that's  something 
that  simply  cannot  be  done. — Balestra. 

BALESTRA   (Re-entering.) 
Your  ladyship ! 

CLAUDIA 

I  wish  nothing. 

BALESTRA 

Your  ladyship  wishes  nothing? 

CLAUDIA 

No. 

BALESTRA 

Your  ladyship  does  not  wish  the  carriage? 

9  Literally,  at  thirteen  o'clock,  in  accordance  with  the  Italian  system  of 
recording  time,  the  new  day  beginning  at  sunset  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY     245 

CLAUDIA 

No,  I  tell  you;  plague  take  you! 

BALESTRA 

(Aside.)     What  a  brute,  what  a  brute!     (Exit.) 

CLAUDIA 

Really,   Don  Alonso  is  too  rude.     If  he  continues  to  neglect 
me,  I'll  be  tempted  to  let  Chevalier  Asdrubel  attend  me. 

BALESTRA   (Re-entering.) 
Your  lady — 

CLAUDIA 

The  deuce  take  you;  I  didn't  call. 

BALESTRA 

A  visitor. 

CLAUDIA 

Who? 

BALESTRA 

Don  Alonso,  to  pay  his  respects. 

CLAUDIA 

You  donkey,  a  cavalier  servante  does  not  need  to  be  announced.10 

Redolent  Don  Alonso  enters,  to  play  the  equivocal 
role  of  a  cicisbeo  not  over-fond  of  his  task;  then 
Donna  Virginia,  the  inamorata  of  Claudia's  husband, 
drops  in  to  gossip,  the  conversation  turning  upon  vir- 
tuous Donna  Eleonora,  whose  character  when  torn  to 
shreds  by  the  women  is  defended  by  Don  Alonso,  a 
rather  good  sort  of  young  man  who  has  been  drawn 
into  this  maelstrom  of  worldliness  because  he  has  not 
the  strength  to  stem  its  noisome  current;  whereupon 
Donna  Claudia  lashes  him  soundly  with  her  malig- 
nant tongue  for  daring  to  uphold  a  woman  who  has 

10  Act  I,  Scene  8. 


246  GOLDONI 

lost  caste.     At  this  juncture,  Don  Flaminio,  her  hus- 
band, enters.     Goldoni's  words  shall  tell  what  ensues. 

FLAMINIO 

.What's  all  this  noise  about?     Why  all  this  rumpus? 

VIRGINIA 

Your  wife  has  been  abusing  poor  Don  Alonso. 

FLAMINIO 

Egad,  but  my  wife's  an  odd  one.  You  don't  know  her  yet. 
Some  day  you'll  know  her  and  then  you'll  sympathize  with  me 
when  I'm  impatient. 

ALONSO 
My  dear  fellow,  I've  not  been  negligent  in  my  duties. 

FLAMINIO 

Then  why  did  you  all  lose  your  tempers? 

VIRGINIA 

I'll  tell  you.  Don  Alonso  took  it  upon  himself  to  defend 
Donna  Eleonora.  He  won't  have  it  that  Don  Rodrigo  is  her 
cavalier  servente,  or,  to  be  more  exact,  her  benefactor.  We,  who 
know  how  things  are,  differed  from  him.  He  grew  obstinate  and 
politely  told  us  we  lied. 

FLAMINIO 

Oh,  Don  Alonso,  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  you're  behaving  badly. 
You  should  make  it  a  rule  never  to  praise  one  woman  in  the  pre- 
sence of  others.  Moreover,  don't  you  know  that  to  contradict  a 
woman  is  like  sailing  up  stream  against  the  wind? 

ALONSO 

I  know  it  perfectly;  yet  believe  me,  I  can't  let  a  virtuous 
woman's  reputation  suffer. 

FLAMINIO 

What's  that?  Does  it  hurt  her  reputation  to  say  that  Don  Rod- 
rigo serves  her?  I  serve  Donna  Virginia,  you  serve  my  wife,  and 
what  harm  is  there  in  it? 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY    247 

ALONSO 

That's  all  very  well,  but  they  were  saying  that  Don  Rodrigo 
gives  her  means  to  live  upon,  pays  her  rent,  her  maid's  wages,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing. 

FLAMINIO 

My  dear  fellow,  and  who  would  pay  them  if  not  he?  I  like 
your  idea.  Her  husband's  property  has  been  confiscated,  she 
hasn't  a  penny  of  dowry.  To  speak  plainly,  one  can't  live  on  air. 

ALONSO 

But  she's  sold  what  she  had,  she's  selling  still,  and  she  works. 

CLAUDIA 
Listen!     How  well  he's  informed. 

VIRGINIA 

Donna  Claudia,  what  do  you  say  to  paying  Donna  Eleonora  a 
visit  this  evening? 

CLAUDIA 

A  visit  to  Donna  Eleonora?  That  pauper  isn't  worthy  a  visit 
from  me. 

VIRGINIA 

But  we  can  see  how  the  fine  lady  behaves  in  her  reduced  cir- 
cumstances. 

CLAUDIA 

You'll  find  her  as  such  ladies  usually  are,  poor  but  proud. 

VIRGINIA 

Who  knows  but  that  we'll  discover  something  more!  I  have 
an  idea  that  she  likes  to  chat.  Don  Alonso  ought  to  know. 

ALONSO 

So  far  as  I  know,  Donna  Eleonora  is  a  very  retiring  woman. 
With  the  exception  of  Don  Rodrigo,  no  one  goes  to  her  house. 

FLAMINIO 

Come,  I  say,  what'll  you  bet  that  I  don't  go  there  and  become 
her  cicisbeo? 

ALONSO 
I'll  bet  a  hundred  louis  that  you  can't  do  it. 


248  GOLDONI 

FLAMINIO 

Make  it  a  gold  watch. 

ALONSO 

Agreed.     I'll  not  back  down. 

FLAMINIO 

Donna  Virginia,  are  you  willing  that  I  should  make  the  at- 
tempt and  win  the  watch  ? 

VIRGINIA 
You  are  at  perfect  liberty  to  please  yourself. 

FLAMINIO 

I'm  pretty  certain  that,  while  I'm  no  longer  serving  you,  there'll 
be  plenty  who'll  know  how  to  take  my  place  beside  you. 

VIRGINIA 
Don't  worry.     I'll  take  care  of  that. 

FLAMINIO 

And  you,  my  dear  wife,  what  say  you? 

CLAUDIA 
You  have  conquered  without  doubt,  say  I. 

FLAMINIO 

Does  it  seem  to  you  that  I  am  a  captivating  cavalier,  capable  of 
capturing  a  woman's  heart  at  the  first  attack? 

CLAUDIA 
Women  of  her  sort  are  easily  conquered. 

FLAMINIO 

The  wrager  has  been  laid,  therefore  let's  say  no  more  about  it;, 
let's  take  a  walk  in  the  garden. 

VIRGINIA 

Agreed;  let's  go. 

FLAMINIO 

Pray  give  me  your  hand. 

VIRGINIA 

Here  am  I. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY    249 

FLAMINIO 

Poor  Donna  Virginia,  how  will  you  manage  to  do  without  me 
for  a  few  days? 

VIRGINIA 

Believe  me,  I  shall  not  suffer. 

FLAMINIO 

Cruel  one,  you  are  making  sport  of  one  who  is  dying  for  you. 

VIRGINIA 

To-morrow  you  will  be  dying  for  Donna  Eleonora,  and  some 
day  you'll  come  back  to  die  for  me.  (Exeunt.) 

ALONSO 

Command  me,  so  that  I  may  have  the  honour  of  serving  you. 

CLAUDIA 

My  deepest  obligations.     Go,  serve  Donna  Eleonora. 

ALONSO 
Impossible,  she'll  be  plighted  to  your  husband. 

CLAUDIA 

Go ;  there'll  be  room  for  you  too.     A  coquette  refuses  no  one.11 

"To  criticize  the  conduct  of  others  without  reflect- 
ing upon  their  own  is  the  common  vice  of  most 
women,"  exclaims  Don  Alonso,  as  Donna  Claudia 
leaves  him :  then  reflecting  upon  the  state  of  himself 
and  his  fellow  cicisbei,  he  continues:  "Utter  folly 
is  our  lot!  To  dance  attendance  for  the  fun  of  it 
and  be  subject  to  the  ridiculous  whims  of  a  woman, 
all  for  the  great  honour  of  being  enrolled  among  the 
cavalieri  serventi."  But  the  real  thesis  of  the  play 
is  expressed  by  Don  Rodrigo,  its  virtuous  hero,  when 
he  asks  why  the  stealing  of  a  man's  wife  should  be 
permitted  if  the  stealing  of  his  purse  or  his  watch 
is  forbidden. 

"Act  I,  Scene  10. 


25o  GOLDONI 

Unlike  the  too-good-to-be-true  heroine  of  The  Ca- 
valier and  the  Lady,  Donna  Eularia,  the  heroine  of 
The  Discreet  Wife  (La  Dama  prudente),  is  both 
admirable  and  human,  while  Don  Roberto,  the  hero 
— if  a  jealous  husband  may  be  so  designated — is  so 
naturalistically  drawn  that  as  a  characterization  he 
bears  comparison  with  modern  psychological  anal- 
yses. "In  Italy,"  says  Goldoni,  in  speaking  of  this 
play,  "there  are  husbands  who  willingly  tolerate  the 
gallants  of  their  wives,  and  who  even  become  their 
confidants,  but  there  are  others  extremely  jealous,  who 
bear  the  strongest  ill-will  to  those  singular  beings 
(the  cicisbei)  who  are  the  second  masters  in  an  ill- 
regulated  family."  This  state  of  affairs  obtains  not 
alone  in  Italy,  but  wherever  the  menage  a  trols  is  a 
social  institution — husbands  like  the  husband  of  Gol- 
doni's  discreet  wife,  who  conform  to  the  customs  of 
a  "wicked,  contemptuous  world"  so  as  not  to  appear 
ridiculous,  being  of  cosmopolitan  growth.  In  this 
husband's  own  words,  they  "suffer,  fret,  and  are 
seared  with  jealousy  while  studying  how  not  to  show 


it." 


Though  Don  Roberto's  cheek  grows  sallow  from 
the  venom  that  is  preying  on  his  vitals,  he  is  such  a 
slave  to  custom  that  he  permits  his  wife  to  be  attended 
by  cicisbei,  preferring  several  to  one  in  the  hope  that 
they  will  neutralize  one  another.  She  is  willing,  nay, 
anxious,  to  lead  a  domestic  life,  yet  he  forces  her  into 
society  lest  the  world,  thinking  him  jealous,  should 
laugh.  Whenever  a  cicisbeo  is  in  the  house,  he  bobs 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY    251 

in  and  out  upon  one  pretext  or  another,  and  when  she 
goes  out  to  visit  a  friend,  though  he  will  not  accom- 
pany her  because  of  the  fear  of  being  laughed  at,  he 
forces  two  cavaliers  instead  of  one  into  the  carriage 
and  runs  on  ahead  to  the  house  to  which  she  is  going, 
a  struggle  between  jealousy  and  conventionality 
ever  raging  in  this  poor  man's  heart. 

Donna  Eularia,  the  discreet  wife  of  this  victim  of 
"the  ugliest  fiend  of  hell"  is  by  far  the  most  womanly 
of  Goldoni's  heroines  and  a  model  wife  for  all  time. 
To  her  husband,  she  says,  "I  have  no  pleasure  save 
being  with  you:  all  the  rest  of  the  world  means  noth- 
ing to  me" ;  to  the  cicisbei  who  attend  her,  she  is  in- 
different, and  when  they  become  importunate,  she 
snubs  them  deftly  by  assuring  them  that,  if  their  as- 
pirations ever  pass  the  bounds  of  propriety,  she  will 
find  the  means  of  "getting  rid  of  them  without  dis- 
turbing her  husband's  peace  of  mind."  "I  may  lack 
the  talent  and  wit  to  shine  in  society,"  she  adds,  "but 
I  do  not  lack  the  prudence  needed  to  defend  my  fam- 
ily's reputation,  and  any  one  who  judges  me  rashly 
will  rue  it."  This  is  no  idle  boast.  Donna  Eularia 
does  possess  the  prudence  needed  to  defend  her  fam- 
ily's reputation.  Never  losing  her  self-control  dur- 
ing Don  Roberto's  fits  of  jealousy,  she  manages  her 
cicisbei  with  an  equal  tact,  forcing  them  to  become 
friends  after  they  have  quarrelled  over  her  and  fought 
a  duel,  while  keeping,  by  her  cleverness,  all  knowl- 
edge of  this  duel  from  the  public  and  her  husband — 
a  triumph  of  tact  which  is  rewarded  by  her  husband's 


252  GOLDONI 

willing  acquiescence  in  her  desire  to  go  to  a  remote 
place  in  the  country  where  cicisbei  are  unknown. 
Thus  a  loving  couple,  whom  worldliness  has  separ- 
ated, retires  to  a  desert  such  as  Alceste,  the  misan- 
thrope, longed  for  in  vain,  Eularia  being  no  heartless 
coquette  like  Celimene,  but  a  woman  "who,  in  the 
midst  of  so  much  deceit  and  domestic  indifference,  is 


sincere."  12 


Goldoni  is  thoroughly  aware,  however,  that,  in  a 
land  where  cicisbeism  obtains,  discreet  wives,  and 
husbands  whose  love  is  legitimate  even  though  jeal- 
ous, are  the  exception  rather  than  the  rule,  his  other 
fashionable  wives  and  husbands  being  moulded  of  a 
different  clay.  For  instance,  in  The  Flatterer 
(U Adulator  e)^  a  comedy  with  melodramatic  tenden- 
cies, inspired  by  Le  Flatteur  of  Jean-Bap tiste  Rous- 
seau, the  protagonist — a  parasitic  rake  and  hypocrite 
— flatters  the  husbands  in  order  that  he  may  corrupt 
the  wives ;  while  one  of  the  latter  is  so  lost  to  decency 
that  she  borrows  money  of  her  cicisbeo  without  a 
qualm.  Equally  shorn  of  moral  sense  is  Don  Flo- 
rindo,  in  The  Punctilious  Ladies  (Le  Femmine  pun- 
tigliose],  a  complaisant  husband  who  lets  his  wife 
spend  his  money  on  her  cicisbeo  because  he  is  born, 
as  Maria  Merlato  remarks,  to  be  "led  by  the  nose" ; 13 
while  a  miserly,  eavesdropping  husband  in  The  Jeal- 
ous Miser  (II  Geloso  avaro),  is  so  despicable  that  he 
appropriates  the  presents  given  his  wife,  accusing  her, 
meantime,  of  having  given  illegal  cause  for  their  re- 

12  Maria    Merlato:    Mariti    e    cavalier    serventi    nelle    commedie    del 
Goldoni.  13  Op.  cit. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY    253 

ceipt.  Don  Properzio,  too,  the  husband  of  Donna 
Giulia,  the  title  character  of  The  Contriving  Woman 
(LaDonna  dlmanegglo],  is  another  miserly  lord  and 
master,  who  scrimps  and  frets  till  his  wife,  a  meddler 
in  the  love  affairs  of  her  friends,  contrives  to  get  the 
better  of  him  by  acquiescing  in  his  parsimony.  Ro- 
saura,  the  rich  bourgeois  girl,  married  to  a  nobleman, 
whose  marital  unhappiness  forms  the  subject  of  The 
Sensible  Wife  (La  Moglle  saggla),  is  a  commend- 
able spouse,  however;  Pantalone,  her  father,  being 
the  prototype  of  good  Monsieur  Poirier;  her  neglect- 
ful husband,  a  Venetian  Due  de  Presles. 

It  is  in  The  House  Party  (La  Villeggiatura) ,  how- 
ever, that  Goldoni  paints  his  most  lifelike  picture  of 
fashionable  husbands  and  wives — a  picture  so  vivid 
that  the  colours  have  not  been  dimmed  by  time.  In- 
deed, this  house  party  might  have  taken  place  on  the 
moors  of  Scotland  during  the  last  grouse  season,  in 
England  when  coverts  were  last  drawn,  or  in  France 
when  last  the  cor  de  chasse  was  sounding  in  the  forest, 
ay,  even  at  Roslyn,  or  Aiken,  so  thoroughly  cosmo- 
politan are  the  characters,  so  modern  the  situations 
of  this  play. 

"Villeggiatura"  means  literally  "country  life"  or 
"the  season  spent  in  the  country";  yet  "house  party" 
better  describes  the  gathering  under  the  roof  of 
Donna  Lavinia  that  forms  the  background  of  a  play 
of  domestic  infelicity  Donnay  or  Pinero  might  well 
have  penned  yesterday  instead  of  Goldoni  a  century 
and  a  half  ago.  Being  wedded  to  a  bluff  country 


254  GOLDONI 

squire,  who  spends  his  days  in  partridge  shooting  and 
his  nights  in  snoring,  Donna  Lavinia  has  a  cicisbeo, 
Don  Paoluccio,  to  whom  she  has  ever  been  faithful, 
though  her  friends  change  theirs,  as  they  do  their  style 
of  dress,  every  spring  and  autumn.  She  would  not 
have  this  one,  did  her  husband  not  live  entirely  for  his 
gross  pleasures;  for,  when  the  comedy  opens,  fearful 
lest  her  suffering  will  lead  her  from  the  playful  hands 
of  cicisbeism  into  the  destructive  arms  of  passion,  she 
warns  her  husband  of  Paoluccio's  return  from  a  tour 
of  Europe,  made  with  her  consent,  but  the  husband's 
only  admonition,  regarding  a  wolf  about  to  enter  his 
fold,  is  that  he  be  given  any  bed  in  the  house  except 
his.  Donna  Lavinia  appeals  to  this  soulless  creature 
to  live  with  her  as  other  men  live  with  their  wives,  yet 
he  scorns  her  bed  and  board  because  she  will  not  con- 
sent to  retire  at  sunset  and  arise  to  chanticleer's  call ; 
in  a  word,  because  she  will  not  give  up  society  and  be- 
come a  domestic  drudge. 

"I  would  n't  give  up  shooting  for  all  the  money  in 
the  world,"  he  says.  "Not  even  for  your  wife's  sake?" 
she  answers  scornfully.  "For  your  husband's  sake 
you  won't  give  up  society,"  he  retorts ;  whereupon  she 
replies,  "Well,  have  your  shooting,  only  let  me  enjoy 
society."  "Will  you  go  to  bed  when  I  do?"  he  asks; 
"will  you  go  to  bed  at  ten  o'clock?"  "Yes,  if  you  will 
stay  in  bed  until  ten  o'clock."  "The  devil!"  he  pro- 
tests; "I  couldn't  stay  in  bed  twelve  hours."  Nor 
will  he  stop  bringing  peasant  girls  into  the  house 
while  his  wife  and  her  friends  are  there.  "The 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY    255 

remedy  is  easy  to  find,  my  dear,"  he  says  to  her  pro- 
test; "you  don't  wish  them  here;  I  do;  therefore  go 
away  yourself."  This  brutal  insult  is  the  parting 
of  the  ways.  "Never  will  you  see  me  here  another 
year,"  she  answers  in  righteous  indignation.  When, 
happy  in  the  thought  that  henceforth  he  will  be  let 
alone,  he  leaves  her,  she,  convinced  at  last  of  her 
right  to  lead  her  life  in  her  own  way,  exclaims, 
"Amuse  yourself  with  your  low-born  wenches! 
You  deserve  to  be  loved  just  as  much  as  I  am 
loved!"  Indifferent  alike  to  appeal  and  threat, 
this  conscienceless  husband  seeks  the  society  of 
two  peasant  girls.  By  giving  his  presents  and  their 
affections  to  a  pair  of  younger  swains,  they  un- 
wittingly avenge  a  wife  who,  meanwhile,  is  being 
taught  her  own  lesson  in  love's  bad  faith. 

Don  Paoluccio,  the  cicisbeo  to  whom  she  has  long 
been  loyal,  returns — like  many  an  American  young 
man  who  has  been  abroad — with  his- head  completely 
turned;  a  Franco-maniac,  liberated,  as  he  believes, 
from  prejudices,  yet,  in  reality,  so  enthralled  by  cos- 
mopolitan vices  that  he  refuses  to  believe  his  lady-love 
has  been  constant  during  the  two  whole  years  he  has 
been  away.  "While  I  was  abroad,"  says  he,  "I  was 
never  constant  more  than  fifteen  days  at  a  time." 
When  condescendingly  he  seeks  to  return  to  the  good 
graces  of  Donna  Lavinia,  she  answers  bitterly,  "For 
fifteen  days  I  shall  make  no  other  engagement" — too 
subtle  an  irony  for  so  heartless  a  rake! 

Poor  Donna  Lavinia!     Loyal   by  nature,   she  is 


256  GOLDONI 

taught,  first  by  a  brutal  husband,  then  by  a  shallow 
cicisbeo,  that  loyalty  is  a  drug  on  love's  market.  Her 
friend  Donna  Florida's  plan  of  having  different  cicis- 
bei  for  town  and  country,  whom  for  the  life  of  her  she 
cannot  recall  when  they  are  out  of  her  sight,  is  a  plan 
far  likelier  than  loyalty  to  succeed  in  that  decadent 
society;  for  even  while  Donna  Lavinia's  loving  heart 
is  being  seared  to  hardness  by  Paoluccio's  neglect,  this 
nice  young  man,  to  whom  the  words  "bounder"  and 
"cad"  would  be  applicable  were  he  of  our  day,  pro- 
poses to  flightly  Donna  Florida  a  "liaison  a  la  paris- 
ienne,"  which,  being  secret,  shall  leave  them  both  free 
to  flirt  in  public.  In  order  to  demonstrate  the  price 
he  attaches  to  his  liberty,  as  well  as  the  catholicity  of 
his  taste,  he  proceeds  forthwith  to  make  love  to  his 
host's  peasant  girls,  in  which  brazen  act  he  is  caught 
by  Donna  Lavinia.  Her  conjugal  and  sentimental 
ideals  being  shattered  almost  simultaneously,  she  is 
too  dazed  to  attempt  the  laborious  task  of  picking  up 
the  pieces  and  gluing  them  into  some  vague  sem- 
blance of  the  gods  she  has  worshipped.  In  the  words 
of  M.  Dejob,  a  sympathetic  French  writer,14  "She  is 
primitively  virtuous,  yet  being  the  slave  of  fashion 
and  neglected  by  her  husband,  she  has  not  the  courage 
to  imprison  herself  within  the  walls  of  her  duty." 
Don  Mauro,  fickle  Donna  Florida's  discarded  cicis- 
beo, is  caught  by  her  on  the  rebound,  these  two  dis- 
consolate hearts  consoling  each  other  in  this  play  just 
as  discarded  hearts  so  often  do  in  real  life;  M.  Dejob 

14  Les  Femmes  dans  la  comedie  jranqaise  et  italienne  au  XVllle  siecle. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY    257 

remarking  cynically  that  "in  real  life  Donna  Lavinia 
would  not  take  a  new  cicisbeo  but  a  new  lover." 

It  is  love,  after  all,  that  distinguishes  her  from  the 
other  women  in  Goldoni's  comedies  who  are  served 
by  cicisbei ;  for,  as  Maria  Merlato  points  out,  "Donna 
Lavinia  is  the  only  Goldonian  woman  who  does  not 
treat  her  cavalier  servente  as  a  coxcomb,  or  a  buffoon, 
but  as  a  gentleman  whom  she  both  esteems  and  re- 
spects." 15  More  than  that,  she  is  the  most  real  of  our 
dramatist's  women,  her  character  being  so  psycho- 
logically true  that,  in  the  comedy  that  tells  her  story, 
he  may  be  said  to  have  anticipated  the  modern  prob- 
lem play  by  nearly  a  century  and  a  half.  If  Donna 
Eularia,  the  discreet  wife,  is  a  lovable  woman,  Donna 
Lavinia,  this  frail  wife,  is  simply  a  loving  woman 
whose  heart  is  stifled  by  indifference — a  woman  of 
Vanity  Fair. 

Yet  Goldoni's  purpose  in  writing  The  House  Party 
was  not  to  vivisect  a  feminine  heart,  but  rather  to  ad- 
monish society  for  its  luxury  and  prodigality.  He 
had  passed  the  early  summer  of  1754  at  Modena  and 
Milan,  and  on  his  way  back  to  Venice,  he  found  the 
subject  for  his  play  in  a  manner  best  stated  in  his  own 
words : 

I  had  observed,  in  my  journey,  a  number  of  country-houses 
along  the  banks  of  the  Brenta,  where  all  the  pomp  of  luxury  was 
displayed.  In  former  times,  our  ancestors  frequented  these  spots 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  collecting  their  revenue,  and  their  de- 
scendants go  there  merely  to  spend  theirs.  In  the  country  they 

15  Op  cit. 


258  GOLDONI 

keep  open  table,  play  high,  give  balls  and  theatrical  entertain- 
ments, and  the  Italian  cicisbeo  system  is  there  indulged  without 
disguise  or  constraint,  and  gains  more  ground  than  elsewhere. 

He  does  not  overdraw  the  picture.  If  the  winter 
of  Venetian  society  was  a  carnival,  its  summer  was 
a  fete  a  la  Watteau;  for,  when  it  was  not  gambling 
or  dancing  minuets,  the  powdered  and  patched  so- 
ciety of  that  day,  to  whom  the  villeggiatura  was  a 
social  necessity,  tripped  merrily  through  cool,  shady 
boskets  to  the  banks  of  the  Brenta,  where  Love's  barge 
lay  moored  and  fluttering  Love  himself  was  whis- 
pering that,  on  the  magic  isle  of  Cythera,  stood  his 
mother's  fair  temple.  Yes,  Watteau  knew  that  life, 
and  so  did  Goldoni,  but  while  the  one  painted  his 
fetes  galantes  so  entrancingly  that  we  sigh  for  a  visit 
to  the  isle  where  Venus  dwells,  the  other  shows  us 
that  the  open  table  and  high  play  of  those  villas, 
where  "all  the  pomp  of  luxury  was  displayed,"  and 
the  love  fetes  on  the  Brenta's  bank,  were  not  Les 
Agrements  de  I'ete  or  Les  Charmes  de  la  vie,  as 
Watteau  calls  them,  but  the  road  to  moral  decay  and 
financial  ruin. 

After  telling  of  the  circumstances  that  led  to  writ- 
ing The  House  Party,  Goldoni  adds:  "I  gave  a 
view  of  all  these  circumstances  some  time  afterward 
in  three  related  plays."  These  three  plays  form  a 
trilogy — the  principal  characters  appearing  in  them 
all — and  are  called,  respectively,  The  Rage  for  Coun- 
try Life  (Le  Smanie  della  villeggiatura] ,  Hazards  of 
Country  Life  (Le  Avventure  della  villeggiatura)^ 


MY  LADY'S  TOILET 


Museo   Correr 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY    259 

and  The  Return  from  the  Country  (II  Rltorno  dalla 
villeggiatura).19  Though  the  atmosphere  of  the 
comedies  in  this  series  is  deliciously  clear,  they  are 
less  happy  both  in  story  and  characterization  than 
The  House  Party.  We  see  a  fashionable  coterie  pre- 
paring to  leave  for  the  country;  we  see  them  at  their 
villas  playing  faro — the  auction  bridge  of  that  day; 
we  see  them  eating,  drinking,  gossiping,  and  making 
love ;  and  we  finally  see  them  return  to  the  city  after 
having  squandered  in  a  month  of  lavish  entertainment 
the  revenues  of  an  entire  year:  yet  the  dramatic  ma- 
terial of  the  trilogy  is  barely  sufficient  for  a  single 
comedy.  Indeed,  the  agonized  efforts  of  a  social 
climber  to  force  a  ladies'  tailor  to  the  finishing  of 
a  garment  called  a  manage — le  dernier  crl  de  Paris 
—in  time  to  vie  in  stylishness  with  a  rival  whom  she 
hates  and  envies;  the  gambling,  gossiping,  eating, 
drinking,  and  love-making  during  a  villeggiatura 
near  Leghorn — a  more  discreet  place  for  satirizing 
Venetian  society  than  the  banks  of  the  Brenta;  the 
tittle-tattle  of  the  servants  about  their  masters;  the 
rascality  of  a  pair  of  waiters  at  a  country  inn ;  and  the 
antics  of  a  gluttonous  snob  and  sponge  named  Ferdi- 
nando  are  all  more  diverting  than  the  attenuated 
story  that  carries  an  uninteresting  quartette  of  lovers 
through  three  plays  that  might  well  be  condensed 
into  three  acts. 

16  7  Malcontenti,  a  play  In  which  the  'villeggiatura  craze  of  Venetian 
society  is  also  pictured,  may  be  called  a  prologue  to  this  trilogy.  In  it 
similar  characters  appear  and  a  similar  story  is  told.  A  play  within  a 
play  in  this  comedy  has  been  held  with  little  verisimilitude  to  have 
been  inspired  by  Shakespeare. 


26o  GOLDONI 

Yet  Goldoni  admits  that  the  telling  of  this  double 
love-story  was  not  the  object  he  had  in  view.  "I 
wished  to  present  in  the  first  play  the  inordinate 
passion  of  Italians  for  country  life,  and,  by  the  second, 
to  demonstrate  the  dangers  induced  by  the  liberty  that 
obtains  in  such  a  society."  The  particular  object  he 
had  in  view  in  writing  the  last,  and  by  far  the  least 
interesting,  comedy  of  the  villeggiatura  series  is  not 
so  apparent,  since,  in  the  epilogue  spoken  by  a  char- 
acter at  the  close  of  Hazards  of  Country  Life,  he  ad- 
mits frankly  that  "the  play  is  finished,  though,  if 
something  still  remains  to  be  unravelled,  it  will  form 
the  subject  of  a  third  play  on  the  same  topic." 

Yet  commonplace  though  the  story  of  the  villeg- 
glatura series  is,  its  plays  shed  a  brilliant  sidelight 
upon  the  society  of  Venice  when  on  its  annual  terra 
firma  outing.  Lawn  parties,  water  parties,  and  rid- 
ing parties,  refreshments  served  in  forest  glades  on 
lace-trimmed  napery,  comedies  played  in  gorgeous 
drawing-rooms,  moonlit  masquerades  upon  the  river, 
faro  till  the  dawn — a  villeggiatura  was,  as  M.  Mon- 
nier  says,  "a  maskless  carnival  where  Folly  came  with 
face  uncovered"  17 — the  same  Folly  who  reigns  wher- 
ever the  idle  born  squander  their  patrimony  in  social 
rivalry.  Reading  Goldoni's  dialogue,  it  is  not  dif- 
ficult to  fancy  oneself  at  Newport.  "Giacinta  is 
a  young  girl,"  says  her  rival  Vittoria,  "yet  she  dresses 
precisely  like  a  married  woman.  Indeed,  to-day,  you 
can't  tell  the  girls  from  the  married  women."  When 

17  Op.  cit. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY    261 

Ferdinando,  the  snob,  says  he  has  just  refused  an  invi- 
tation to  an  old-fashioned  house  where  they  sup 
at  nine  and  go  to  bed  at  ten,  Vittoria  answers :  "I 
wouldn't  lead  such  a  life  for  all  the  money  on  earth. 
If  I  go  to  bed  before  dawn,  it  is  quite  impossible  for 
me  to  sleep" ;  whereupon  her  brother  adds :  "At  our 
house  we  play  cards  or  dance  till  dawn,  but  we  never 
dine  until  eight;  indeed,  after  our  little  game  of  faro, 
we  usually  see  the  sun  rise."  "That  is  living,"  sighs 
Vittoria; — living  the  way  society  lives  wherever 
Satan  finds  employment  for  its  idle  hands. 

In  The  Rattlepate  (La  Donna  di  testa  debole), 
Goldoni  presents  a  euphuistic  widow  of  noble  birth, 
surrounded  by  a  troop  of  pedantic  flatterers,  and  so 
unsparing  is  its  satire  of  both  culture-seeking  women 
and  the  literary  leeches  who  thrive  upon  their  foibles, 
that,  with  a  certain  justice,  it  may  be  termed  the 
Italian  Precleuses  ridicules.  Although  this  comedy 
failed  dismally  at  the  time  of  its  production,  its  irony 
is  nevertheless  so  keen  that  Professor  De  Guber- 
natis 18  places  it  on  a  plane  of  equality  with  Pail- 
leron's  notable  satire  of  false  romanticism.19  Yet 
ruthless  as  is  its  portrayal  of  the  sort  of  woman  who 
still  pursues  culture  breathlessly,  it  is  too  deficient  in 
truly  dramatic  situations  to  fulfil  this  Italian  critic's 
hope  that  "it  may  merit  in  our  day  the  honours  of 
the  stage,  and  win  applause." 

The  Impostor  (II  Raggiratore] ,  tells  the  story  of  a 
bogus  nobleman's  attempt  to  marry  the  heiress  to  the 

18  Op  cit.  19  Le  Monde  ou  Von  s'ennuie. 


262  GOLDONI 

mortgaged  estates  of  Don  Eraclio,  an  impoverished 
patrician  who,  asserting  descent  from  the  Emperor 
Heraclius  and  discovering  in  an  historical  dictionary 
that  there  are  thirty-seven  towns  called  Eraclio, 
proudly  styles  himself  "Eraclio,  lord  of  thirty-seven 
towns,"  even  though  his  wife's  jewels  are  in  pawn 
and  his  creditors  are  taking  legal  measures  to  possess 
themselves  of  his  palace.  The  spurious  count,  who 
gives  the  play  its  title,  schemes  with  a  venal  lawyer 
to  antedate  a  marriage  contract  between  Don  Era- 
clio's  daughter  and  himself,  thereby  feathering  his 
own  nest  as  well  as  outwitting  his  future  father-in- 
law's  creditors.  Before  this  is  compassed,  however, 
the  impostor's  peasant  father  arrives  to  unmask  him, 
and  poor  Don  Eraclio,  bereft  of  his  palace,  is  forced 
to  seek  an  asylum  in  a  madhouse,  "a  place  worthy,"  as 
he  says,  "of  a  poor,  presumptuous  man,  who,  seeking 
to  glorify  himself  with  the  vanity  of  the  past,  is  ruined 
in  the  present,  only  to  be  worse  off  in  the  future." 
Don  Eraclio's  story  is  a  lesson  in  vainglory,  as  true 
to  the  life  of  our  day  as  to  that  in  which  it  was  penned. 
In  The  Feudatory  (II  Feudatario),  the  seigneurial 
phase  of  country  life  is  shown ;  a  young  marquis,  on 
taking  possession  of  his  inherited  estates,  attempting 
to  possess  himself  of  the  wives  and  daughters  of  his  re- 
tainers as  well.  He  has  to  deal,  however,  with  pretty 
Chitta's  husband,  Cecco,  a  sturdy  deputy,  who,  hav- 
ing shot  four  men,  itches  to  level  his  carbine  at  a 
fifth,  a  desire  from  which  he  is  dissuaded  by  the  pro- 
posal of  his  comrades  that  their  landlord's  castle  be 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY    263 

burned  and  he  treated  like  the  lambs  of  their  flocks. 
Caught  in  shepherd's  guise  making  love  to  Chitta, 
the  marquis  is  beaten  soundly  by  Cecco,  who  threatens 
to  shoot  him  should  he  repeat  the  offence,  whereupon, 
marrying,  at  his  tactful  mother's  suggestion,  a  ro- 
mantic orphan  of  the  Mile,  de  Seigliere  type,  with 
a  claim  to  his  estates,  he  ends  the  danger  to  his  life 
and  a  tiresome  lawsuit  as  well.  The  reader  feels, 
however,  that,  as  soon  as  the  honeymoon  has  waned, 
he  will  go  forth  again  to  prey  upon  his  retainers' 
wives  unless  awed  by  Cecco's  trusty  carbine. 

As  in  the  case  of  the  villeggiatura  trilogy,  the  bril- 
liance of  The  Feudatory  lies  mainly  in  the  sidelight 
shed  upon  society,  one  scene  in  particular,  where  the 
mother  of  the  young  marquis  receives  a  delegation 
of  the  wives  of  her  son's  retainers  being  exceedingly 
human,  and,  according  to  Goldoni,  taken  from  life. 
These  good  women,  flustered  in  the  presence  of  a 
grand  lady,  strive  to  show  that  they  are  accustomed  to 
society,  till,  assuming  equality,  they  are  told  abruptly 
that  they  belong  to  "the  lower  class"  (basso  ran  go] 
—a  term  they  have  never  before  heard.  One  of  their 
number  suggests  that  it  means  they  are  of  the  lower 
country,  not  the  mountains,  an  explanation  that  makes 
them  acknowledge  with  pride  that  they  are  of  the 
lower  class;  whereupon,  to  make  conversation,  one 
of  them  asks  the  marchioness  "how  much  flax  is  worth 
in  Naples,"  only  to  be  hushed  by  a  friend's  query 
as  to  why  she  should  expect  Her  Excellency  to  know 
about  such  things.  "A  marchioness  would  n't  spin 


264  GOLDONI 

like  the  people  of  our  sort,"  the  friend  whispers ;  "she 
would  make  lace  and  embroider."  Chocolate  being 
brought,  these  worthy  souls  do  not  know  what  the 
"black  stuff"  is.  Making  wry  faces,  they  smell  it, 
and  when  it  scalds  their  throats,  spit  it  out  without 
more  ado;  but  their  lack  of  breeding  becomes  most 
apparent  when  the  heroine  of  the  play,  whom  they 
think  their  inferior,  is  treated  with  more  consideration 
than  themselves,  for  then  they  flounce  out  of  the 
marchioness's  drawing-room,  their  common  noses  in 
the  air. 

The  rich  young  feudatories  tarried  in  the  country 
no  longer  than  the  cicisbei  and  the  dolls  of  fashion. 
The  hot  spell  passed,  the  vlllegglatura  ended,  they 
went  to  town  for  the  opening  of  the  autumn  season, 
the  theatres,  and  the  Ridotto.  Night  amusement  for 
the  Venetian  there  was  a-plenty,  but  his  days  he  must 
pass  in  his  cicisbea's  boudoir,  at  a  gaming-house,  or 
at  a  tavern.  There  being  no  clubs  in  Venice,  the 
tavern  became  a  sort  of  public  club  where  congenial 
spirits  gathered  to  sip  their  chocolate  and  to  gossip, 
just  as  the  Parisians  gather  now  at  the  cafes  on  the 
boulevard  at  the  hour  of  the  aperitif. 

In  The  Mistress  of  the  Inn  (La  Locandlera) ,  Gol- 
doni  paints  a  delightful  picture  of  such  a  tavern  club. 
Mirandolina,  the  landlady,  is  both  comely  and 
sprightly;  the  customers  flirt  with  her;  and  having 
an  eye  for  business,  she  keeps  them  on  tenter-hooks, 
for,  while  they  are  kept  guessing  in  the  matter  of 
her  preference,  they  are  buying  chocolate  or  wine 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY    265 

to  her  profit;  a  venal  coquetry  that  served  to  fire  the 
hearts  of  a  pair  of  old  codgers — the  one  a  blue- 
blooded  marquis,  the  other  a  parvenu  count — with 
a  desire  to  marry  her,  if  only  for  the  comfort  of  being 
permanently  well  cared  for.  The  pot-boy,  longing 
both  for  his  mistress  and  her  profitable  business,  re- 
sents these  attentions.  Meanwhile,  the  Cavaliere  di 
Ripafratta,  a  confirmed  bachelor,  with  an  aversion 
to  the  sex,  alighting  at  this  delectable  inn,  the  hostess 
sets  her  trim  cap  for  him,  just  for  the  sport  of  teach- 
ing a  woman-hater  to  respect  her  sex;  while  he,  in- 
experienced in  coquetry,  falls  an  easy  prey  to  one 
so  skilled  and  offers  her  his  heart  and  hand. 

From  this  embarrassment  of  riches,  the  comely 
hostess  must  make  a  choice.  To  be  the  Marchesa 
di  Forlipopoli,  with  a  title  as  old  as  the  hills  and  a 
fortune  as  bare  as  they,  or  the  Contessa  d'Albafiorita, 
with  a  brazen  title  bought  only  yesterday?  How 
could  a  sensible  woman  sacrifice  a  profitable  business 
for  either  horn  of  this  noble  dilemma?  For  the 
Cavaliere  di  Ripafratta,  the  woman  hater,  to  whom 
she  has  taught  the  futility  of  defying  her  sex,  she 
has  a  hankering,  yet,  being  endowed  with  common 
sense,  she  realizes  that,  though  lovely  in  a  tap-room, 
she  might  be  an  eyesore  in  a  drawing-room;  hence, 
rather  than  to  mate  above  her  station,  she  gives  her 
hand  to  her  faithful  pot-boy,  and  these  profitable 
words  to  her  disconsolate  admirers : 

In  changing  my  estate,  I  intend  to  change  my  habits;  there- 
fore, gentlemen,  may  you  profit  by  what  you  have  seen,  both  to  the 


266  GOLDONI 

advantage  and  the  well-being  of  your  hearts;  and  if  ever  you 
should  find  yourselves  in  the  position  of  wondering  whether  to 
yield  or  fall,  think  of  the  cunning  you  have  been  taught,  and  re- 
member the  Mistress  of  the  Inn. 

This  is  the  story  of  a  comedy  in  which  Goldoni 
demonstrates  his  mastery  both  in  stage-craft  and  char- 
acterization perhaps  more  fully  than  in  any  single 
play.  In  this  pretty  ado  about  nothing,  Mirando- 
lina,  an  eighteenth  century  Beatrice,  brings  a  surly 
Benedick  to  her  feet  but  condemns  him  to  perpetual 
bachelorhood  for  having  presumed  to  doubt  the  al- 
lurement of  her  sex.  Bold,  coy,  tender,  or  indifferent, 
as  suits  her,  this  captivating  mistress  of  an  inn  where 
old  codgers  congregate  to  woo  her,  is  a  mistress, 
too,  of  love's  ingenuity, — the  essence  of  coquetry, 
the  secret  of  her  charm,  being  best  told  in  her  own 
words : 

I  like  the  roast,  but  not  the  smoke.  If  I  had  married  all  who 
have  asked  me,  I  should  have  far  too  many  husbands,  for  all  who 
arrive  at  my  inn  fall  in  love  with  me  and  make  love  to  me  and 
most  of  them  propose  to  me.  .  .  .  But  the  men  who  run  after  me 
soon  bore  me.  Nobility  will  not  do  for  me ;  I  esteem  wealth  and, 
again,  I  don't  esteem  it.  My  joy  consists  in  being  courted,  ad- 
mired, and  adored.  Indeed,  that  is  my  weakness,  as  it  is  the 
weakness  of  most  women.  Having  no  need  of  any  one,  I  don't 
worry  about  marrying;  I  lead  a  decent  life  and  I  enjoy  my  lib- 
erty. I  chat  with  all,  yet  fall  in  love  with  none;  for  I  mean  to 
laugh  at  all  these  caricatures  of  passionate  lovers  and,  moreover,  I 
mean  to  use  all  my  arts  in  capturing,  felling,  and  breaking  the 
rude,  hard  hearts  that  are  opposed  to  us,  the  best  thing  Dame 
Nature  ever  brought  into  the  world." 

The  two  old  codgers  who  woo  her,  represent  the 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY    267 

peerage  and  the  "beerage"  of  that  day.     "Between 
you  and  me  there  is  a  difference,"  says  the  Marchese 
di  Forlipopoli — blue  of  blood,  empty  of  purse — to 
the  Conte  d'Albafiorita,  his  parvenu  rival  for  Miran- 
dolina's  hand.     "At  this  inn,  my  money  is  as  good  as 
yours,"  is  the  sneering  retort.     "I  am  the  Marchese 
di  Forlipopoli,"  proudly  answers  the  patrician,  whose 
family  tree  is  the  only  tree  left  upon  a  once  fertile 
estate.     "And  I  am  the  Conte  d'Albafiorita,"  replies 
his  wealthy  rival,  in  an  upstart's  attempt  to  assume 
an  equality  he  knows  in  his  inmost  heart  does  not 
exist.     "A  count!"  sneers  the  marquis,  "a  purchased 
countship!"     "I  bought  the  countship  when  you  sold 
the  marquisate,"  is  the  parvenu's  retort;  whereupon 
the  patrician,  drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height, 
exclaims  frigidly,  "Enough!     I  am  who  I  am,  and 
you  owe  me  respect."     After  the  parvenu  has  tipped 
him,  and  the  patrician  given  him  naught  but  in- 
solence, the  pot-boy  sums  up  the  truth  by  saying  that 
"funds,  not  titles,  win  respect  away  from  home,"  a 
perennial,  though  homely  epigram. 

There  are  Marquises  of  Forlipopoli  and  Counts 
of  Albafiorita  still ;  there  is  many  a  crusty  bachelor, 
too,  like  the  Cavaliere  di  Ripafratta,  who,  believing 
love  for  a  woman  "an  unbearable  weakness  in  a  man," 
has  never  been  in  love  and  vows  he  never  will  be; 
until  some  pretty  Mirandolina  flouts  that  "may  her 
nose  drop  off,  if  she  doesn't  make  him  fall  in  love 
with  her  before  the  morrow."  To  quote  her  once 
more:  "Who  can  resist  a  woman  when  a  man  gives 


268  GOLDONI 

her  the  time  to  bring  her  arts  to  bear?  He  who 
flees,  need  not  fear  to  be  conquered;  but  he  who  stays, 
listens,  and  enjoys  her  society,  must  fall  sooner  or  later 
in  spite  of  himself."  Mirandolina  not  being  a  fine 
lady,  the  comedy  concerning  her  is  perhaps  not  a 
society  comedy  in  the  narrower  sense  of  the  term. 
Yet  she  is  not  a  bourgeoise  either — her  mind  being 
broad — nor  an  ignorant,  superstitious  woman  of  the 
people.  A  winsome  cosmopolite,  she  is  a  self-made 
woman,  whose  conflict  with  life  has  taught  her  to 
know  mankind  as  well  as  what  is  best  for  herself. 
Being  wooed  by  titled  lovers,  her  introduction  into 
a  chapter  devoted  to  plays  of  the  world  of  fashion 
may  perhaps  be  pardonable.20 

Goldoni,  a  bourgeois  himself,  viewed  society  from 
the  antechamber — hence  he  has  been  said  to  have 
lacked  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  subject,  Baretti, 
a  contemporary,  even  accusing  him  of  making  prin- 
cesses talk  like  ladies'  maids.  Yet  so  true  to  the  life 
of  our  time  are  many  of  his  pictures  of  society  that, 
if  Baretti's  charge  be  just,  it  may  be  said  that  the 
princesses  of  to-day  talk  like  the  ladies'  maids  of 

20  Goldoni  was  reproved  by  Grimm  (Correspondance}  for  not  causing 
Mirandolina  to  fall  in  love  with  the  woman-hater,  an  obviously  happy 
ending  any  playwright  might  have  conceived.  Of  the  widespread  popu- 
larity of  La  Locandiera,  the  great  number  of  translations  and  adapta- 
tions is  irrefutable  evidence.  In  his  article  in  the  Rivista  d'ltalia  for 
November,  1907,  E.  Maddalena  mentions  thirty-eight  adaptations  and 
translations  of  this  comedy,  five  of  which  are  anonymous.  Six  are  in 
French,  five  in  English,  nine  in  German,  seven  in  Spanish,  two  each  in 
Russian,  Portuguese,  and  Hungarian,  and  one  each  in  Danish,  Greek, 
Polish,  Roumanian,  Czech,  and  Croatian.  Among  the  more  prominent 
actresses  who  have  impersonated  Mirandolina  are  Mile.  Candeille,  Car- 
lotta  Hagn,  Teresa  Peche,  Irene  Vanbrugh,  and  Eleonora  Duse. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY    269 

Goldoni's  time.     Only  yesterday,  however,  a  French- 
man said  of  this  genial  Venetian's  pictures  of  society: 

His  comedies  give  but  a  mediocre  idea  of  brilliant  Venice.  Save 
for  a  few  obscure  folk  the  characters  are  all  virtuous  and  possessed 
of  but  slight  gaiety.  Among  them  there  are  no  debauchees, 
Cyprians,  or  wary  senators,  only  prudent  fathers,  good  mothers, 
and  submissive  sons;  no  adventurers  or  freebooters,  only  mer- 
chants whose  souls  are  honour.21 

Goldoni  did  paint  society  both  with  truth  and  spirit, 
even  though  he  did  not  paint  it  obscenely  enough  for 
this  Frenchman's  taste.  Moreover  he  had  ideals,  not 
only  of  society,  but  of  all  that  constitutes  life ;  witness 
this  passage  from  The  Post  Inn  (L'Osteria  delta 
posta),  a  one-act  comedy  of  intrigue  that,  in  its  treat- 
ment recalls  the  stilted  French  comedy  of  that  day, 
though  the  broad  philosophy  here  quoted  is  as  un- 
like Marlvaudage  as  the  clear  tones  of  a  clarion  are 
unlike  the  delicate  notes  of  a  flute : 

The  study  of  literature  is  a  diversion  for  the  mind  which  does 
not  rob  the  heart  of  its  humanity.  Love  is  a  natural  passion  felt 
in  the  midst  of  the  most  serious  or  the  most  trivial  occupations. 
He  who  knows  only  how  to  love  must  of  necessity  grow  weary 
occasionally  of  his  own  joy,  and  what  is  still  worse,  weary  of  the 
object  of  his  affection.  Study,  on  the  contrary,  divides  the  heart 
equably;  it  teaches  us  to  love  with  more  delicacy,  it  makes  us 
realize  more  thoroughly  the  merits  of  the  loved  one,  and  the  fires 
of  love  are  more  vivid  and  brilliant  after  the  heart  has  breathed 
and  the  mind  has  been  amused.  Let  us  now  consider  society 
— unlucky  he  who  spurns  it.  Society  makes  a  man  civil  and 
amiable  and  strips  him  of  the  savage  rudeness  that  is  his  bane.  A 

21  Charles  Verrier:  Goldoni  et  la  reforms  du  theatre  ttalien.  La 
grande  Revue,  Feb.  25,  1908. 


270  GOLDONI 

misanthrope,  a  recluse,  is  a  burden  to  his  family,  a  torment  to  his 
wife.  A  man  who  does  not  like  society  himself  will  naturally 
not  be  disposed  to  permit  his  wife  to  enjoy  it.  Howsoever  great 
may  be  their  mutual  love,  it  is  hardly  possible  that  they  may  be 
together  from  morning  till  night  without  a  thousand  opportunities 
for  losing  their  tempers;  for  love  is  in  great  danger  of  soon  de- 
generating into  boredom,  distaste,  and  even  aversion. 

Looking  at  life  through  the  smoked  glasses  of  a 
realism  that  were  better  called  biasism,  many  a 
modern  dramatist  sees  only  life's  shadows.  Forget- 
ting that  in  the  country  and  by  the  sea  mankind 
breathes  good,  fresh  air,  he  poisons  his  lungs  with 
the  noxious  air  of  crowded  streets ;  holding  his  nose 
to  the  ordures  of  life  as  he  examines  them,  he  for- 
gets that  life's  flowers  have  perfumes  that  are  sweet. 
Believing  that  the  theatre  was  the  "best,  the  most  use- 
ful, and  the  most  necessary  of  relaxations,"  Goldoni, 
the  kindly  naturalist,  presented  life,  not  as  a  cadaver 
to  be  dissected  at  a  clinic  of  the  morbid,  but  as  a 
humorous  and  truthful  picture  painted  vividly  in 
the  sunlight  for  the  delight  of  his  fellow-man,  not 
his  undoing.  He  is  an  optimist  with  a  helpful  smile 
ever  upon  his  gentle  lip.  Nowhere  is  this  more 
apparent  than  in  his  pictures  of  the  corrupt  society 
of  Venice,  though  it  is  unjust  to  say  that  his  char- 
acters are  all  virtuous.  There  are  "debauchees,  Cyp- 
rians, wary  senators,  adventurers,  and  freebooters'7 
a-plenty  in  his  plays;  yet,  side  by  side  with  them, 
to  point  the  moral  that  the  world  is  not  all  corrupt, 
never  has  been,  and  never  will  be,  are  "prudent 
fathers,  good  mothers,  submissive  sons,"  and  faithful 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY    271 

wives.  In  the  breadth  of  Goldoni's  sane  vision  and 
in  the  cleanliness  of  his  mind,  quite  as  much  as  in 
his  unfailing  humour  and  gaiety,  lie  the  sources  of 
his  glory. 


I 


IX 

COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE 

N    fully    a    score    of    Goldoni's    comedies,    the 
sturdy  life  of  mercantile  Venice  is  presented;  in 
as  many  more,  the  upper  bourgeoisie  is  shown 
knocking  at  the  doors  of  patrician  society.     Like 
every  middle  class,  that  of  Venice  formed  the  back- 
bone of  a  people,  Goldoni's  Pantalone  being  its  rep- 
resentative on  the  stage.     Whenever  he  appears,  the 
play  by  his  presence  is  given  a  middle-class  flavour, 
for  he  is  always  the  Venetian  merchant  speaking  in 
the  soft  Venetian  speech. 

"Pantalone  de'  Bisognosi,  mercante  veneziano"  is 
the  way  his  name  appears  among  the  dramatis  per- 
sona of  some  thirty  of  the  comedies ;  in  several  others, 
a  part  similar  to  his  is  allotted  to  Anselmo  or  Pan- 
crazio,  who,  like  him,  are  Venetian  merchants.  Gol- 
doni's Pantalone,  however,  differs  widely  from  the 
buffoonish  part  which  bears  his  name  in  the  Impro- 
vised Comedy.  Instead  of  being  duped  by  the  other 
characters,  he  holds  the  threads  of  the  play  between 
his  ink-stained  fingers  while  voicing  the  precepts  of 
the  author.  He  it  is  who  typifies  the  conservatism 
and  moral  worth  of  Venice,  proud  mistress  of  the 
Adriatic,  in  the  days  before  luxury  had  sapped  her 

272 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE    273 

strength.  He  is  fond  of  order,  peace,  and  good  living. 
Although,  as  he  says  in  The  Whimsical  Old  Man 
(II  Vecchio  bizzarro) ,  he  eats  "good  food,"  it  must 
be  "pure  food  that  he  knows  will  not  make  him  ill." 
A  citizen  of  free  Venice,  Pantalone  was  no  vassal 
of  an  overlord.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  a  merchant 
of  Venice,  and  his  forbears  had  been  merchants,  too, 
proud  of  their  calling.  He  did  not  wear  a  sword,  yet 
he  had  a  sharp  tongue,  ever  ready  to  defend  his  rights. 
As  he  says  in  The  Swindler  (U  Impostor  e),  "Al- 
though I  am  old,  I  am  not  afraid ;  and  if  I  don't  know 
how  to  use  a  sword,  I  have  enough  of  a  tongue  to 
give  my  reasons  in  the  face  of  no  matter  whom."  In 
The  Cavalier  and  the  Lady,  when  he  is  called  "a 
vile  merchant  and  a  plebeian"  by  patrician  Don 
Flaminio,  he  thus  proudly  defends  his  estate: 

If  you  knew  what  it  means  to  be  a  merchant,  you  would  not 
speak  like  that.  .  .  .  Commerce  is  useful  to  the  world,  necessary 
to  the  life  of  nations,  and  he  who,  like  myself,  practises  it  honour- 
ably should  not  be  called  plebeian.  More  plebeian  is  he  who,  hav- 
ing inherited  a  title  and  a  little  land,  spends  his  days  in  idleness, 
believing  himself  privileged  to  trample  every  one  under  foot  and 
live  a  life  of  domination.  The  vile  man  is  he  who  does  not  recog- 
nize his  duty,  who  foolishly  and  unjustly  vaunts  his  arrogance, 
making  others  realize  that,  though  noble  by  the  accident  of  birth, 
he  deserves  to  have  been  born  plebeian.1 

Brave  sentiments  for  such  an  age!  As  M.  Mon- 
nier  points  out,  Pantalone  "represented  in  Venice  a 
new  condition  of  things,  a  new  condition  of  the  heart 

1  The  character  who  speaks  these  democratic  sentiments,  though  called 
Anselmo,  has  the  attributes  of  Pantalone. 


274  GOLDONI 

—the  third  estate." 2  Yet,  outspoken  as  he  is  at 
times,  Goldoni's  Pantalone  is,  after  all,  a  bourgeois, 
conservative  to  the  core — a  respecter  of  vested  rights, 
meddling  with  neither  politics  nor  religion,  and  be- 
lieving that  what  is,  should  be.  Arrayed  in  the  dress 
of  his  fathers,  he  is  faithful  to  a  glorious  past,  ever 
guarding  his  traditions  as  zealously  as  he  guards  his 
home.  In  The  Prudent  Man  (L'Uomo  prudente), 
for  instance,  Pantalone  is  a  middle-class  husband  un- 
swayed by  fashion — a  man  with  the  tradition  of  a  past 
century,  who,  finding  a  cicisbeo  in  his  house,  admin- 
isters this  feudal  admonition: 

You  don't  deserve  ever  to  leave  this  place  alive,  and  I  ought 
to  have  you  drawn  and  quartered.  But  I  am  human  and  I  love 
my  neighbour  as  myself ;  I  shall  therefore  content  myself  by  warn- 
ing you  as  a  brother  and  a  friend.  Do  not  eye  my  wife  or  daugh- 
ter either  little  or  much,  and  never  set  foot  in  my  house  again; 
above  all,  take  care  that  you  tell  no  one  of  what  has  happened 
here  this  evening.  In  case  you  ever  dare  to  approach  this  house, 
I  tell  you  in  confidence  that,  beneath  one  of  the  steps,  there  is  a 
trap  and  that,  to  precipitate  you  into  a  pit  filled  with  nails  and 
razors,  all  I  have  to  do  is  to  touch  a  secret  spring.  In  case  you 
try  to  meet  my  wife  and  daughter  elsewhere,  or  if  you  are  so  rash 
as  to  blab,  I  have  enough  sequins  in  my  purse  to  pay  for  having 
you  shot  in  the  back  without  any  one  suspecting  whence  the  shot 
comes.  I  speak  to  you  about  this  calmly  and  without  anger. 
Profit  by  my  advice  and  let  your  conduct  be  prudent. 

This  burgher  with  the  sentiments  of  the  Middle 
Ages  even  threatens  to  bury  his  wife  alive;  yet  he  is 
not  without  a  fine  sense  of  honour,  for,  when  the 
lady,  seeking  to  put  an  end  to  him  by  placing  poison 

2  Op.  cit. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE    275 

in  his  pottage,  is  exposed  by  the  death  of  a  dog  which 
had  partaken  of  it  and  is  arrested  for  her  crime,  he 
defends  her  in  open  court  and  obtains  her  acquittal, 
"his  tenderness,"  to  quote  his  author,  "finally  win- 
ning the  hearts  of  his  enemies,  his  prudence  saving 
the  honour  of  his  family." 

Conservative,  middle-class  Pantalone  is  indeed 
out  of  sympathy  with  the  new-fangled  ways  of  cicis- 
beism  and  a  fashionable  society  which  turns  night 
into  day.  He  will  not  let  the  women  of  his  family 
show  themselves  half  dressed  to  the  gallants  who 
lace  their  stays ;  they  may  not  receive  actresses  in  his 
house,  nor  give  progressive  dinners  in  the  latest  fash- 
ion by  serving  the  soup,  the  roast,  and  the  dessert 
each  on  a  separate  table  in  a  separate  room.  When 
his  women  go  abroad,  their  eyelids  are  lowered  de- 
murely; water,  not  pomade,  is  used  to  sleek  their 
hair;  and  when  company  comes  to  the  house,  their 
toilet  consists  merely  in  the  removing  of  their  aprons, 
for,  though  they  have  jewels,  their  pride  lies  in  the 
possession,  not  the  showing. 

^/The  Rialto,  with  its  banks,  shops,  and  exchanges, 
is  Pantalone's  Venice,  and  there,  amid  the  hum  of 
traffic,  he  labours  till  the  bell  of  the  Rialtina  strikes 
the  hour  when  he  may  go  to  his  hermetically  sealed 
house  in  a  narrow  street  away  from  the  joys  of  the 
Piazza,  a  house  as  carefully  closed  as  his  heart  to  the 
merry  sounds  of  the  carnival.  There  he  puts  on  his 
red  slippers,  takes  a  pinch  of  snufl  from  his  horn 
snuff-box,  adjusts  his  spectacles,  and  settles  himself 


276  GOLDONI 

in  his  favourite  chair  to  pass  his  evening  in  a  quiet 
corner  of  Venice,  where  the  only  sound  to  disturb 
him  is  a  neighbouring  cobbler's  song  or  the  groan- 
ing of  the  organ  at  the  parish  church.  Knitting 
stockings,  scratching  her  head  with  her  needle  from 
time  to  time,  Eufemia,  his  fat  wife,  sits  beside  him: 
though  outwardly  demure,  Rosaura  and  Diana,  his 
pretty  daughters,  stifle  in  the  close  atmosphere  of 
that  room,  "where,"  to  quote  M.  Monnier  once  more, 
"the  furniture  and  the  cares  are  always  in  the  same 
place."  3  Their  youthful  blood  is  not  yet  frozen, 
therefore  each  of  these  pretty  girls  imagines  her- 
self to  be  a  zentildonna  and  sighs  for  a  cicisbeo  or 
that  latest  gown  from  Paris,  a  manage.  Ashamed 
of  his  father's  calling,  Eugenio,  the  brother  of  these 
bourgeois  maidens,  is  meanwhile  swaggering  in  the 
Piazza  and  pretending  to  be  a  gentleman,  or  mayhap 
losing  some  of  his  father's  hard-earned  sequins  at 
the  gaming-tables  of  that  rogue  Pandolfo,  fleecer 
of  unwary  youths.  If  not  there,  the  young  scape- 
grace is  perchance  paying  his  tender  respects  to  Li- 
saura,  the  ballet-dancer,  who  lives  next  door  to 
Pandolfo;  for  only  when  his  purse  is  empty  does  Pan- 
talone's  son  seek  the  parental  hearthside. 

When  Pantalone  dies,  wayward  Eugenio  inherits 

his  fortune  and  business,  neglects  his  young  wife, 

and  gambles  his  patrimony  away  at  the  tables  of 

I  Pandolfo.     Ridolfo,    who    keeps    the    coffee-house 

hard  by,  was  once  his  father's  servant.     With  com- 

3  Op  cit. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE     277 

mendable  attachment  for  the  family  he  has  served, 
this  worthy  man  laments  the  bad  habits  of  his  former 
master's  son,  reproves  him,  so  far  as  he  dares,  lends 
him  money  without  his  knowing  whence  it  comes, 
and  "partly  by  good  advice,  partly  by  admonitions, 
partly  by  kindness,  and  partly  by  generosity,"  opens 
the  eyes  of  his  master's  unruly  son  and  "makes  an- 
other man  of  him." 

This  is  the  simple  story  of  The  jCoffee-House 4 
(La  Bottega  del  caffe] ,  a  naturalistic  comedy  in  Tus- 
can of  the  life  of  bourgeois  Venice  such  as  Goldoni 
wrote  more  frequently,  though  seldom  more  deftly, 
in  the  speech  of  his  native  city.  Although  this  play 
is  merely  a  vivacious  picture  of  life  in  one  of  those 
little  squares  called  campielli,  where  two  narrow 
streets  cross  in  the  city  of  the  lagoons,  its  characters 
are  true,  its  action  real,  and  its  vivacious  dialogue 
so  unliterary  as  to  be  condemned  by  Baretti,  a  critic 
of  Goldoni's  day,  as  barbarous;  yet  so  natural  that 
one  need  only  walk  the  streets  of  Venice  to  hear  its 
like.  The  plot  has  been  outlined  above;  there  is  a 
sub-plot,  however,  concerning  the  quest  of  a  wife 
in  the  disguise  of  a  pilgrim  for  an  erring  husband 
who  is  a  gambler  and  the  protector  of  a  pretty  ballet 
girl;  and  occasionally  some  strained  portion  of  the 
attenuated  story  recalls  the  fact  that  this  is  a  comedy 
contemporaneous  with  the  artificiality  of  Marivaux 
and  the  studied  sarcasm  of  Voltaire.  "In  the  title 

4  In  the  published  versions  of  this  comedy  there  are  no  masks,  al- 
though when  first  produced  there  were,  according  to  its  author,  several 
mask  characters. 


278  GOLDONI 

of  the  comedy,"  says  Goldoni,  "I  do  not  introduce 
a  story,  a  passion,  or  a  character,  but  merely  a  cof- 
fee-house, where  several  actions  take  place  simul- 
taneously, whither  several  people  are  brought  by 
different  interests."  "The  piece,"  he  continues, 
"should  be  read  in  its  entirety  before  being  judged, 
there  being  as  many  character  studies  as  there  are 
persons  in  the  play.  Among  them  is  a  prattling 
slanderer  who  is  very  original  and  funny — a  plague 
of  humanity  who  bores  the  customers  of  the  coffee- 
house where  the  scene  is  laid." 

In  this  ingenuous  way,  Goldoni  refers  to  Don 
Marzio,  the  scandal-monger,  one  of  the  most  original 
of  his  characterizations.  An  out-at-elbows  Nea- 
politan gentleman  stranded  in  Venice,  who  passes 
his  time  in  drinking  water  at  Ridolfo's  coffee-house, 
Don  Marzio,  at  once  guileless  and  artful,  is  a  busy- 
body whose  tongue  wags  constantly  and  whose  ears 
are  strained  for  gossip  which  his  vivid  southern  im- 
agination invariably  distorts.  Like  the  Marchese 
di  Forlipopoli  in  The  Mistress  of  the  Inn,  he  is  an 
impecunious  gentleman  trying  to  keep  up  appear- 
ances, and  like  him,  too,  unable  to  realize  that  the 
most  inefficient  of  human  creatures  is  a  gentleman 
with  an  empty  pocket-book.  But  Forlipopoli  loves 
Mirandolina;  whereas  Don  Marzio  loves  only  the 
sound  of  his  own  mischievous  voice.  Even  when 
his  intentions  are  the  best,  he  can  read  only  ulterior 
motives  into  the  innocent  remarks  he  chances  to  over- 
hear, with  the  consequence  that,  whenever  his  nose  is 


GOLDONI  IX  A  COFFEE-HOUSE 


Collection  of  Professor  Italico  Brass 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE     279 

poked  into  other  people's  business,  his  wagging 
tongue  creates  mischief.  This  whimsical  old  med- 
dler is  thus  introduced  in  a  conversation  with  Ri- 
dolfo,  proprietor  of  the  coffee-house: 

RIDOLFO 

Here  comes  one  who  never  stops  talking  and  who  always  will 
have  it  that  he  is  in  the  right. 

DON   MARZIO 

Coffee. 

RIDOLFO 

You'll  be  served  immediately. 

DON    MARZIO 

What  news  is  there,  Ridolfo? 

RIDOLFO 

I  hardly  know,  sir. 

DON    MARZIO 

Hasn't  anybody  turned  up  here  yet? 

RIDOLFO 
It's  still  early. 

DON   MARZIO 

Early?     Ten  o'clock  has  struck! 5 

RIDOLFO 

Oh!  sir — no;  it  isn't  eight  yet. 

DON    MARZIO 

Get  out,  you  fool! 

RIDOLFO 

I  assure  you  that  eight  has  not  yet  struck. 

DON    MARZIO 

Get  out,  you  donkey! 

RIDOLFO 

You  abuse  me  without  reason. 
*  Literally,  sixteen  o'clock,  the  Venetian  day  beginning  at  sunset. 


280  GOLDONI 

DON    MARZIO 

I  counted  the  strokes  this  very  moment,  and  I  tell  you  it  is 
ten  o'clock.  Moreover,  look  at  my  watch!  it's  never  wrong. 
(Shows  his  watch.) 

RIDOLFO 

Well,  if  your  watch  is  never  wrong,  pray  observe  that  your 
watch  says  a  quarter  to  eight. 

DON    MARZIO 

It  isn't  possible.      (Uses  his  eye-glass.) 

RIDOLFO 

Well,  what  does  your  watch  say? 

DON    MARZIO 

My  watch  is  keeping  poor  time.     I  heard  it  strike  ten. 

RIDOLFO 

Where  did  you  buy  your  watch? 

DON    MARZIO 

I  had  it  sent  to  me  from  London. 

RIDOLFO 

They  cheated  you. 

DON    MARZIO 

Cheated  me?     How? 

RIDOLFO 

They  sent  you  a  poor  watch. 

DON    MARZIO 

Poor!  What  do  you  mean?  It's  one  of  the  best  watches 
Quare  ever  made. 

RIDOLFO 
If  it  were  good  it  wouldn't  be  two  hours  behind  the  time. 

DON    MARZIO 

It  always  runs  well;  it's  never  behind  time. 

RIDOLFO 

But  if  it  says  a  quarter  to  eight,  and  you  say  it  is  ten  ? 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE    281 

DON    MARZIO 

My  watch  runs  well,  I  tell  you. 

RIDOLFO 

Therefore  it's  about  eight  o'clock,  just  as  I  said. 

DON    MARZIO 

You're  an  impertinent  rascal.  My  watch  runs  well,  but  you 
talk  ill.  Take  care  I  don't  box  your  ears.6 

A  waiter  finally  brings  Don  Marzio  his  coffee; 
his  busy  tongue  wags  on.  "Tell  me,  Ridolfo,"  he 
asks,  regarding  the  dancer  who  dwells  nearby,  "what 
is  that  ballet  girl  doing  in  this  neighbourhood?" 
"In  truth,  I  know  nothing  about  her,"  Ridolfo  an- 
swers; whereupon  Don  Marzio  declares  that  he  has 
heard  she  is  under  the  protection  of  Count  Leandro, 
a  slanderous  statement  waxing  so  tremendous  in  his 
imagination  that,  when  Ridolfo  returns  a  moment 
later,  the  old  scandalmonger  has  woven  a  tale  to  the 
effect  that  she  is  protected  by  Count  Leandro,  who, 
"instead  of  spending  his  money  on  her,  helps  him- 
self to  all  the  poor  creature  earns;  and  perhaps  be- 
cause of  him,  she  is  forced  to  lead  a  life  she  would 
not  otherwise  lead." 

"But  I  have  never  seen  any  one  except  Count  Le- 
andro enter  her  house,"  Ridolfo  protests. 

"She  has  a  backdoor,  you  fool,"  chuckles  the  old 
gossip.  "There  is  always  an  ebb  and  flow.  She  has 
a  backdoor,  you  fool !" 

In  this  way,  Don  Marzio  makes  a  story  out  of 
whole  cloth  which  he  retails  to  any  one  who  will 

6  Act  I,  Scene  3. 


282  GOLDONI 

listen.  Throughout  the  play  he  is  flitting  about, 
catching  a  word  here,  a  look  there,  which  his  evil 
old  tongue  rolls  into  a  sweet  morsel  of  slander. 
Moreover,  he  is  cantankerous,  and  will  .ever  have  it 
that  his  word  is  law  even  when  he  has  not  a  leg  to 
stand  his  argument  upon.  Witness  this  scene  with 
Count  Leandro : 

DON    MARZIO 

Come,  let's  sit  down.     What's  new  in  the  world's  news? 

LEANDRO 

I  take  no  interest  in  the  news. 

DON    MARZIO 

Do  you  know  that  the  Russian  army  has  gone  into  winter  quar- 
ters? 

LEANDRO 

They  did  right.     The  weather  forced  them  to. 

DON    MARZIO 

No,   sir,   they  did  wrong.     They  should  not  have  abandoned 
the  position  they  held. 

LEANDRO 

True.     They  should  have  endured  the  cold   rather  than  lose 
their  conquests. 

DON    MARZIO 

No,  sir.     They  did  not  have  to  run  the  risk  of  being  there  at  all, 
with  the  danger  of  perishing  in  the  ice. 

LEANDRO 

Then  they  should  have  advanced. 

DON    MARZIO 

No,  sir.     Oh,  what  a  fine  knowledge  of  war!     Advance  in  the 
middle  of  winter ! 

LEANDRO 

Then  what  should  they  have  done  ? 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE     283 

DON    MARZIO 

Let  me  look  at  the  map  and  then  I'll  tell  you  exactly  where 
they  should  have  gone. 

LEANDRO     (Aside.) 
Oh,  what  a  superb  fool! 

DON    MARZIO 

Were  you  at  the  opera? 

LEANDRO 

Yes,  sir. 

DON    MARZIO 

Did  you  like  it? 

LEANDRO 

Well  enough. 

DON    MARZIO 

You  have  poor  taste. 

LEANDRO 

Enough ! 

DON    MARZIO 

Where  are  you  from? 

LEANDRO 

Turin. 

DON   MARZIO 

An  ugly  town. 

LEANDRO 

On  the  contrary,  it  passes  for  one  of  the  finest  in  Italy. 

DON    MARZIO 

I  am  a  Neapolitan;  see  Naples,  then  die. 

LEANDRO 

I  should  give  you  the  Venetian's  answer.7 

DON    MARZIO 

Have  you  any  snuff? 

7  The  Venetian  proverb  is  Vedi  Venezia  e  poi  discorri  (See  Venice  and 
then  talk). 


284  GOLDONI 

LEANDRO 

Here!      (Opens  his  snuff-box.) 

DON    MARZIO 

What  atrocious  snuff! 

LEANDRO 

It's  good  enough  for  me. 

DON   MARZIO 

You  know  nothing  about  it.     Rappee  is  the  genuine  snuff. 

LEANDRO 

I  like  Spanish  snuff. 

DON    MARZIO 

Spanish  snuff  is  an  abomination. 

LEANDRO 

And  I  say  it's  the  best  snuff  a  man  can  take. 

DON    MARZIO 

What!  You  presume  to  tell  me  what  snuff  is!  I  make  it,  I 
have  it  made  for  me.  I  buy  it  here,  I  buy  it  there.  I  know  what 
this  is.  Rappee,  rappee,  it  must  be  rappee!  (Shouts  loudly.) 

LEANDRO  (Shouting  too). 
Yes,  sir,  rappee,  rappee,  it's  true  that  rappee  is  the  best  snuff. 

DON    MARZIO 

No,  sir!  Rappee  is  not  always  the  best  snuff;  one  must  dis- 
criminate. You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about.8 

Don  Marzio  not  only  quarrels  with  every  one  who 
opposes  him,  but  he  betrays,  as  well,  the  secrets  of 
his  friends,  ruins  the  characters  of  women,  and  de- 
livers fugitives  into  the  hands  of  the  police  with 
a  mischievousness  so  ingenuous  that  he  cannot  un- 
derstand why  maledictions  are  showered  upon  him 
by  his  victims.  "They  complain  of  my  tongue," 
he  laments;  "yet  I  am  sure  I  speak  kindly.  It  is 

*Act  II,  Scene  16. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE    285 

true  I  talk  occasionally  about  this  one  or  that  one, 
but  believing  that  I  speak  the  truth,  I  do  not  ab- 
stain from  it.  I  tell  readily  what  I  know,  but  I  do 
it  because  I  have  a  kind  heart."  The  unconscious 
protagonist  of  a  play  in  which  his  tongue  snarls  ev- 
ery knot,  this  unique  portrayal  of  the  evils  of  gossip 
is  a  character  worthy  a  place  in  the  immortal  com- 
pany of  Mascarille  and  Figaro. 

Translated  into  English  by  Mr.  Henry  B.  Fuller, 
this  comedy  was  presented  by  The  Drama  Players, 
under  the  auspices  of  the  Chicago  Theatre  Society, 
during  the  dramatic  season  of  1912,  and  received 
with  mild  curiosity,  not  to  say  indifference,  by  an 
American  audience;  yet  in  extenuation  of  this  ill 
success,  it  may  be  said  that  the  actors,  temperamen- 
tally unsuited  to  their  parts,  had  been  insufficiently 
rehearsed,  and  that  the  play  had  been  hurriedly 
staged  without  having  received  the  judicious  prun- 
ing so  necessary  to  a  modern  revival  of  old  comedy. 
Although  one  Chicago  critic  declared  that  "The 
Coffee-House  will  inspire  no  emotion  save  that  of 
ennui,"  while  another  dismissed  it  as  "artistic  fluff," 
the  charm  of  this  quaintly  naturalistic  comedy  was 
keenly  felt  by  that  intrepid  champion  of  dramatic 
excellence,  Mr.  James  O'Donnell  Bennett,  of  the 
Record-Herald,  his  critique  being  so  intuitively  just 
to  this  droll  portrayal  of  the  life  of  Venice  in  her 
decadence  that  it  shall  be  quoted  here  as  a  vicarious 
expression  of  the  present  writer's  views  regarding 
it: 


286  GOLDONI 

That  quaint  fabric  of  naivete  and  sapiency,  "The  Coffee- 
House,"  was  enacted,  probably  for  the  first  time  on  the  English- 
speaking  stage,  at  the  Lyric  Theatre  last  evening  before  an  assem- 
blage that  at  first  seemed  to  be  rubbing  its  eyes  to  adjust  its  vision 
to  a  composition  that,  when  you  have  adjusted  yourself  to  it,  is 
very  engaging.  When  the  audience  had  put  itself  back  into  Venice 
of  the  mid-eighteenth  century,  and  when  it  began  to  sense  the 
kindliness,  the  homely  wisdom,  the  sweet  trustfulness  and  the 
soft  drollery  that  distinguish  everything  the  good  Carlo  Goldoni 
wrote — then  it  enjoyed  itself.  Until  then  it  seemed  dissatisfied — 
wondering  perhaps  with  what  relic  the  Chicago  Theatre  Society 
was  trying  to  fool  it. 

But  you  cannot  long  resist  "Dr.  Goldoni,  a  Venetian  lawyer,"  as 
they  called  him  in  the  early  days  of  his  memorable  career.  .  .  .  He 
is  one  of  the  loves  of  literature,  and  it  was  a  genuine  pleasure  to 
this  reviewer  to  sit  with  him  last  evening  and  observe  him  in  his 
kindly,  busy,  deft,  officious,  sometimes  artless  and  sometimes  very 
shrewd  way,  manoeuvring  the  people  he  knew  so  thoroughly  in 
that  trivial,  impetuous,  genial  Venice  of  his. 

Here  came  the  male  babbler,  preening  and  mincing  in  lace  and 
silk,  sipping  his  coffee  in  the  open,  lying  in  wait  for  a  bit  of  gossip 
like  a  cat  for  a  mouse,  putting  two  and  two  together  and  making 
what  he  liked  out  of  it,  symbolizing — in  a  different  way  but  just 
as  wonderfully — the  "motiveless  malignity"  of  lago,  and  epito- 
mizing mischief  and  malevolence.  .  .  .  The  character  is  drawn 
full  length — perfect  in  every  puttering  detail,  an  officious,  gloat- 
ing, eavesdropping  babbler  who  wins  for  himself  in  the  denoue- 
ment the  word — of  terrifying  import  in  the  Venice  of  1760 — 
''spy,"  and  who  thinks  himself  so  little  deserving  of  that  word 
that  he  whimpers  as  the  curtain  falls:  "I  have  a  good  heart,  but 
— but — I  talk  too  much!"  He  is  an  unforgivable,  unforgettable 
old  man,  and  he  was  as  alive  last  night  as  he  was  one  hundred  and 
fifty-two  years  ago. 

Here  is  that  Signor  Eugenio,  who  "pursues  women  and  gam- 
bles like  a  madman";  here  the  old  servant  of  the  father  of  Eu- 
genio, who  has  saved  his  money  and  opened  a  coffee-house  and  de- 
clares with  honest  pride  that  his  is  a  calling  which,  when  pursued 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE     287 

aright,  serves  alike  the  pleasure  and  the  comfort  of  the  town ;  here 
the  gambler  and  his  gulls ;  here  neglected  wives  voicing  their  griefs 
with  the  gorgeous  virulence  characteristic  of  their  race;  here  the 
impudent  servants  who  know  too  much.  They  are  all  alive. 
Babbler,  crook,  spendthrift,  benevolent  old  man,  the  acquisitive 
and  the  inquisitive — they  go  busily  their  ways.  Innuendo,  pro- 
test, impeachment,  denial  fly  through  the  air.  The  old  servant 
reconciles  the  contentious,  heartens  up  the  grieving,  assists  the  pen- 
niless, tries  to  implant  good  sense  and  right  feeling  in  the  soul  of 
even  the  crooked  gambler,  reunites  estranged  husbands  and  wives, 
brings  everything  to  a  happy  issue  for  everybody, — except  the  mean 
scandalmonger.  Him  the  sunny  Carlo  cannot  forgive,  and  at  the 
end  he  sends  him  trailing  across  a  deserted  stage,  the  hateful  word 
"spy" — informer  would  perhaps  convey  the  meaning  better — ring- 
ing in  his  ears. 

The  mechanism  of  it  has  occasionally  been  so  obvious  that  in 
these  knowing  days  a  child  could  run  it.  Sometimes  the  move- 
ment has  been  forced  and  tame.  But  the  human  nature  of  it  is 
valid.  We  know  that  these  people  existed,  that  they  hurried  and 
idled  and  gossiped  and  quarrelled  in  yonder  sunlit  square,  irascible, 
volatile,  weak,  venomous,  distracted.  They  rejoiced.  They  suf- 
fered. They  lived. 

The  satire  of  The  Coffee-House  was  not  directed 
solely  against  scandal,  the  evils  of  gambling  being 
also  brought  under  its  stinging  lash.  Eugenio,  the 
young  merchant,  losing  his  patrimony  at  cards  and 
pawning  his  wife's  jewels,  is  a  powerful  sermon 
against  this  vice,  while  Pandolfo,  the  gambler,  is  a 
faithfully  drawn  character,  who  meets  his  moral  de- 
serts by  his  delivery  into  the  hands  of  justice  through 
the  blabbing  of  Don  Marzio.  The  arrest  of  a  gam- 
bler would  have  been  an  anomaly  in  Venice  a  few 
years  previously,  yet  a  moral  revulsion  had  swept 
over  that  pleasure-loving  town — one  of  those 


288  GOLDONI 

sporadic  crusades  against  vice  such  as  obtain  in 
American  cities.  Games  of  chance  had  been  de- 
clared illegal,  the  gambling  tables  of  the  Ridotto 
had  been  suppressed;  to  quote  Goldoni:  "Even  the 
members  of  the  Great  Council  who  were  fond  of 
gambling  had  voted  in  favour  of  the  new  law,"  the 
powers  that  were  in  Venice  being  apparently  not  so 
oligarchically  entrenched  that  they  might  scorn  vote- 
winning  politics.  It  was  an  opportune  moment  for 
a  play  directed  against  the  evils  of  gaming,  so  op- 
portune, in  fact,  that,  with  a  practical  dramatist's 
eye  ever  upon  the  public  taste,  Goldoni  launched  a 
few  months  later  another  dramatic  missile  against 
the  card-sharpers  of  Venice;  but  The  Gambler  (II 
Gluocatore) ,  as  this  new  play  was  called,  in  the  words 
of  its  author,  "failed  hopelessly,"  because  the  epi- 
sodic gamester  of  The  Coffee-House  surpassed  the 
one  who  was  the  subject  of  a  play — another  evidenqe 
of  the  futility  of  literary  repetition.9  / 

Although  the  clement  protagonist  of  The  Father 
of  a  Family  (II  Padre  di  famiglia)  called  Pancra- 
zio,  wears  small  clothes  instead  of  long,  red  trousers, 
and  a  periwig  in  lieu  of  a  mask,  he  is,  however,  a 
merchant  of  Venice,  and  therefore  Pantalone's 
ectype.  In  spite  of  his  paternal  affection,  he  is  still 
somewhat  of  a  prig,  and  less  human  by  far  than 
Beatrice,  his  second  wife,  or  Ottavio,  the  dissipated 
tutor  who  leads  the  younger  of  his  charges  into  vile 
ways,  and  bullies  the  elder,  Pancrazio's  child  by  his 

9  The  evils  of  gaming  are  also  set  forth  in  La  Buona  moglle. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE     289 

first  wife.  "I  had  seen  in  society  complacent  moth- 
ers," says  Goldoni,  "unjust  step-mothers,  spoiled 
children,  and  dangerous  teachers,  so  I  assembled 
these  different  objects  in  a  single  picture,  portraying 
in  a  sprightly  way,  by  means  of  a  wise  and  prudent 
father,  the  correction  of  vice  and  the  example  of 
virtue."  In  valuing  his  plays  "according  to  his  own 
feelings,"  he  would,  he  adds,  "say  much  in  favour 
of  The  Father  of  a  Family"  The  adverse  decision 
of  the  public  forced  him,  however,  to  place  it  in  the 
second  rank — an  unconscious  tribute  to  the  public's 
acumen,  for,  although  this  play  has  been  translated 
into  several  languages,  including  English,  and  has 
been  included  in  more  than  one  selected  edition  of  the 
comedies,  its  smugness  and  its  lachrymose  plot 
should  keep  it  confined  to  the  rank  in  which  the 
Venetian  public  placed  it. 

In  The  Obedient  Daughter  (La  Figlia  obbedi- 
ente),  Pantalone  plays  the  role  of  an  obdurate  father, 
who  forces  his  daughter  to  bend  to  his  will.  But  her 
lover  is  not  so  supine.  Threatening  to  kill  the  rich 
old  count  whom  Pantalone  has  chosen  for  her  hus- 
band, he  so  thoroughly  frightens  him  that  he  jilts 
her,  while  consoling  himself  with  a  ballet-dancer. 
Olivetta,  this  lady  of  the  coulisses,  Brighella,  her 
complaisant  father,  and  Count  Ottavio,  her  rich  ad- 
mirer, are  three  characters  whose  drolleries  form  a 
sprightly  sub-comedy,  although,  as  the  author  says, 
"the  principal  story  is  not  very  interesting  because 
lacking  in  suspense." 


290  GOLDONI 

To  find  in  the  minor  characters  of  Goldoni's  duller 
comedies  bright  flashes  of  his  genius  is  no  uncom- 
mon thing;  yet  in  none  are  they  more  ludicrously  true 
to  life  than  in  The  Obedient  Daughter,  Brighella,  the 
ex-valet,  who  acclaims  the  presents  made  his  daugh- 
ter as  tributes  to  her  art,  and  who  forces  his  former 
fellow-servant,  Arlecchino,  to  address  him  as  Ex- 
cellency, being  a  character  as  droll  as  Captain  Cos- 
tigan  or  Monsieur  Cardinal,  both  of  whom  he  re- 
sembles. Ostensibly  blind  to  his  daughter's  lapses, 
he  vaunts  her  terpsichorean  triumphs,  while  selling 
for  his  own  benefit  the  sweetmeats  she  does  not  con- 
sume and  accepting  tips  from  English  lords  and  Ger- 
man princes.  When  she  washes  her  hands  in  an  or- 
dinary bowl,  he  begs  her  to  repeat  the  ablution  in 
a  silver  basin,  while  in  her  interviews  with  titled 
men  he  assists  her  with  all  the  self-importance  he 
can  assume;  yet  all  the  while  he  is  unable  to  dis- 
guise the  fact  that  before  she  became  a  "star"  he  was 
an  upper-servant. 

This  humorous  sidelight  shed  on  theatrical  life 
in  an  otherwise  bourgeois  comedy  tempts  one  to  wan- 
der for  a  moment  away  from  Pantalone's  strait- 
laced  household  to  the  green-room  itself,  for  in 
The  Manager  from  Smyrna  (L 'Impresario  delle 
Smirne),  Goldoni  presents  a  more  complete  and  even 
more  satirical  picture  of  stage  folk.  The  manager 
in  question  is  a  Turkish  merchant  who,  coming  to 
Venice  on  business,  is  so  delighted  with  the  opera 
that  he  resolves  to  take  a  troupe  back  to  Smyrna,  his 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE     291 

native  town,  the  poor  Turk,  whose  knowledge  of 
women  is  confined  to  the  odalisques  of  his  harem, 
being  soon  pestered  to  distraction  by  prime  donne 
seeking  engagements,  each  as  pretentious  and  self- 
centred  as  the  most  pampered  of  modern  stage  di- 
vinities. Although  each  is  accompanied  by  a  retinue 
of  old  women,  brothers,  kinsfolk,  birds  in  cages, 
dogs,  poll-parrots,  and  doddering  admirers,  these  ar- 
tists of  little  merit  have  such  a  meagre  repertory 
that  a  poetaster,  armed  with  the  complete  works  of 
Metastasio  and  Zeno,  is  obliged  to  give  assurance  that, 
with  the  aid  of  a  rhyming  dictionary,  he  can  write 
new  words  to  fit  the  hackneyed  tunes  which  have 
cracked  their  voices.  Indeed,  so  insufferable  do  the 
trials  of  the  amateur  manager  become  that  he  flees 
in  desperation  from  the  tempers  of  the  prime  donne 
to  the  peace  of  his  harem  at  Smyrna;  after  having 
entrusted  an  agent  with  the  task  of  giving  the  artists 
a  quarter  of  their  promised  salary,  "instead  of  the 
insults  they  merit." 

But  mention  of  The  Manager  from  Smyrna  here 
is  a  distinct  digression,  bourgeois  Pantalone  being 
no  habitue  des  coulisses.  On  the  contrary,  as  the 
staid  father  of  a  respectable  family,  he  was  often  at 
his  wits'  end  in  keeping  in  leash  some  badly  be- 
haved son,  such  as  Lelio,  whose  escapades  give  sub- 
ject to  The  Liar  (II  Bugiardo] ,  a  play  founded,  as 
the  author  frankly  confesses,  on  Corneille's  comedy 
of  similar  name  (Le  Menteur).  Here  Goldoni 
follows  in  the  footsteps  not  only  of  the  author  of  The 


292  GOLDONI 

Cld  but  of  Alarcon  as  well;  still  the  sprightly  adven- 
tures into  which  a  young  liar's  glib  tongue  leads  him 
are  told  with  certain  novel  touches  which  Voltaire 
thus  describes : 10 

There  are  in  Goldoni  two  very  amusing  elements;  the  first  is 
a  rival  of  the  liar,  who,  in  repeating  as  the  truth  all  the  false- 
hoods the  liar  has  told  him,  is  himself  taken  for  a  liar;  while  the 
second  is  a  valet,  who,  wishing  to  emulate  his  master,  plunges  into 
ridiculous  lies  from  which  he  cannot  extricate  himself. 

Voltaire  adds,  however,  that  Goldoni's  liar  is  less 
noble  than  Corneille's,  although,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
he  is  a  far  more  consistent  person  than  his  French 
prototype,  Goldoni's  fidelity  to  nature  being  appar- 
ent even  in  this  borrowed  comedy.  Lelio  may  be 
odious — as  indeed  a  liar  ought  to  be — yet  he  is  con- 
sistently a  bourgeois.  Even  when  masquerading  as 
a  nobleman,  he  would  never  have  convinced  a  man 
to  the  manner  born  that  he  was  of  noble  birth, 
whereas  Corneille's  Dorante,  though  a  bourgeois 
too,  neither  talks  nor  acts  like  one  at  any  time;  a 
nicety  of  characterization  on  Goldoni's  part  which 
Voltaire  overlooked. 

The  Merchants  (I  Mercantl)  is  still  another  play 
in  which  Pantalone  has  a  wayward  son  who  dissi- 
pates his  father's  wealth,  but  in  this  instance  the 
prodigal's  reclamation  is  brought  about  by  the  tact 
and  patience  of  his  sweetheart,  Giannina,  a  girl  Gol- 
doni rightly  calls  "very  well  educated  and  very  sen- 

10  Commentalre  sur  Corneille. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE    293 

sible."  n  But  if  Pantalone  often  had  trouble  with 
his  sons,  the  rearing  of  his  children  of  the  weaker 
sex  was  sometimes  a  problem  as  well,  especially  if 
they  happened  to  be  two  marriageable  daughters, 
one  a  capricious  miss  never  twice  of  the  same  mind, 
and  the  other  an  ingenuous  little  fool. 

This  is  his  predicament  in  The  Fickle  Woman 
(La  Donna  volubile),  a  play  written  to  satirize  an 
actress  in  Medebac's  company,  who,  according  to  the 
author,  was  "the  most  capricious  woman  in  the 
world."  12  This  weathercock  in  petticoats  is  pun- 
ished in  a  manner  befitting  her  flightiness,  since, 
when  she  has  finally  made  up  her  mind  to  marry, 
none  of  her  admirers  will  have  her.  Her  father, 
Pantalone,  is  wealthy,  and  his  wealth  has  turned  the 
fickle  lady's  head.  Had  her  mother  been  alive,  and 
she  obliged  to  help  in  the  work  of  the  household  in- 
stead of  being  attended  by  two  maids  whom  she 
browbeats,  inconstant  Rosaura  would  have  been  bet- 
ter behaved  and  better  mannered,  money  being  de- 
cidedly at  the  root  of  her  evil  disposition. 

A  far  more  tractable  daughter  of  Pantalone  is  to 
be  met  in  The  Misadventure;  or  The  Imprudent 

11  /  Mercanti,  written  to   give   Collalto   a   dual  role,   was  originally 
called   /  Due  pantaloni,  the  two   Pantaloons  being  father   and  son  and 
both   of    them   merchants.     Owing   to   the   difficulty   of   finding   an    actor 
capable  of  playing  both  roles  successfully,  Goldoni  rewrote  the  play  and 
entitled   it  /   Mercanti,  Pantalone's   name   being  changed   to   Pancrazio, 
his   son's  to  Giacinto. 

12  La   Donna   vendicativa,   a   comedy   of   bald   intrigue    in   which    the 
wiles   of   a   scheming   maid   servant   are   set  forth,   was   also  written   to 
satirize  an  actress,  Corallina,  the  lady  in  question  "having  vowed  eternal 
hatred"  against  Goldoni  when  he  forswore  her  charms. 


294  GOLDONI 

Babbler  (II  Contrattempo,  o  sla  II  Chiacchierone 
imprudente),  a  comedy  concerning  the  misfortunes 
of  a  well-intentioned  young  man  with  a  wagging 
tongue.  Yet  the  daughter  in  question,  who  plays 
with  a  doll  and  knows  not  the  meaning  of  the  word 
husband,  is  incredibly  guileless  for  a  young  woman 
of  eighteen  even  if  convent  bred,  though  doubtless 
she  was  designed  as  a  model  for  the  young  girls  of 
Venice  to  emulate. 

The  most  sprightly  of  Goldoni's  comedies  of  the 
Venetian  bourgeoisie  is  The  Inquisitive  Women  (Le 
Donne  curiose)  the  scene  of  which  was  ascribed  to 
Bologna  because  it  satirized  freemasonry,  an  alien  in- 
stitution, condemned  by  the  Jesuits  and  anathema- 
tized by  the  Pope;  yet,  to  its  author's  liberal  mind, 
harmless  alike  to  religion  and  morality.  Two  Eng- 
lishmen, whom  he  knew,  had  instituted  a  masonic 
lodge  in  Venice,  of  which  he  was  perhaps  a  member, 
although  it  seems  more  likely  that  he  merely  saw  in 
the  outcry  against  freemasonry  a  subject  for  a  spir- 
ited comedy  of  popular  appeal.  At  all  events,  The 
Inquisitive  Women,  although  noteworthy  as  the  only 
play  in  which  he  has  the  temerity  to  make  dramatic 
use  of  a  political  question,  is  so  delightfully  inno- 
cent in  its  satire  that  even  the  tyrannical  Council  of 
Ten  could  with  difficulty  have  discerned  in  it  a  men- 
ace to  either  the  Church  or  the  State. 

"Under  a  well  hidden,  well  disguised  title,"  says 
Goldoni,  "this  play  represents  a  lodge  of  freema- 
sons, Pantalone,  a  Venetian  merchant,  being  at  the 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE    295 

head  of  a  society  of  persons  of  his  own  state  which 
meets  in  a  small  rented  house  to  dine,  sup,  talk  busi- 
ness, or  discuss  the  news  of  the  day."  In  other  words 
this  masonic  lodge  is  merely  a  club,  frequented,  like 
modern  clubs,  by  men  of  congenial  tastes  in  search  of 
relaxation,  its  only  secret  ordinance  being  the  ex- 
clusion of  women  from  a  share  in  its  innocent  pleas- 
ures. Yet  the  fact  that  they  are  denied  admission 
to  this  club  so  whets  the  feminine  curiosity  of  the 
wives  and  sweethearts  of  its  members  that  they  plot 
a  way  to  penetrate  its  sacred  precincts,  in  order  to 
discover  whether  their  lords  and  lovers  spend  their 
time  there  in  gambling,  in  searching  for  the  philoso- 
pher's stone,  or  in  entertaining  women  of  question- 
able character.  Possessing  themselves  by  trickery  of 
the  keys  of  the  club-house,  these  inquisitive  women, 
abetted  by  Corallina,  a  maid,  succeed  in  bribing  Pan- 
talone's  servant,  Brighella,  to  hide  them  in  a  closet 
while  the  club  is  in  session,  only  to  learn  that  "Friend- 
ship" is  its  watchword,  and  its  sole  secret  rite  the  en- 
joyment of  a  delicious  supper.  Because  of  the  inabil- 
ity of  these  prying  women  to  hold  their  tongues  while 
in  their  hiding  place,  their  eavesdropping  is  discov- 
ered; whereupon  Brighella,  in  extenuation  of  his 
treachery,  declares  that  he  admitted  them  to  the  club 
for  the  commendable  purpose  of  convincing  them  of 
its  harmlessness,  the  result  being,  so  says  Goldoni, 
"that  the  men  are  not  angry  to  find  their  wives  unde- 
ceived and  themselves  in  a  position  to  enjoy  their  in- 
nocent pleasures." 


296  GOLDONI 

The  dramatic  texture  of  The  Inquisitive  Women 
is  flimsy,  yet  so  deftly  is  it  draped  upon  its  slender 
framework  of  a  single  idea  that  this  comedy  is  en- 
titled to  far  higher  rank  than  many  for  which  its  au- 
thor built  a  more  elaborate  scaffolding.  So  much 
does  its  interest  depend  upon  its  mirthful  dialogue, 
however,  that  it  is  easy  to  agree  with  Mr.  Richard 
Aldrich,  the  distinguished  musical  critic  of  the  New 
York  Times,  in  believing  that  this  lively  comedy  does 
not  cry  aloud  for  musical  illustration.  Yet,  as  this 
writer  declares,  "Wolf-Ferrari  has  made  it  into  a 
lyric  drama  with  a  skill  and  originality,  with  a  com- 
mand of  the  comic  expressions  of  music,  that  are  rare 
to-day."  13  Human  nature  is  a  better  basis,  however, 
than  an  artificial  plot  whether  for  an  opera  or  for  a 
play,  a  fact  that  explains  the  undoubted  charm  of 
The  Inquisitive  Women,  the  entire  argument  of  which 
is  constructed  upon  the  desire  of  a  few  over-curious 
wives  and  sweethearts  to  find  out  what  their  hus- 
bands and  lovers  are  doing  behind  closed  doors.  Yet 
feminine  as  is  their  curiosity,  these  women  of  Gol- 
doni's  day  absolutely  represent,  to  quote  Signor  Ern- 
esto Masi,14  "society  endeavouring  to  divine  in  a 
thousand  ways  the  mystery  of  those  masonic  meet- 
ings, which  Pope  Corsini  with  the  bull  In  eminenti 
of  April  28th,  1738,  had  solemnly  condemned." 

13  Le  Donne   curiose,   an   opera   founded   on   Goldoni's  comedy  of  the 
same  name    (music  by  Ermanno  Wolf -Ferrari,  text  by  Luigi   Sugana), 
produced  in  Munich   1903   and   at  the  Metropolitan  Opera-House,   New 
York,   1912. 

14  Scelta  di  commedie  di  Carlo  Goldoni. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE    297 

Freemasonry  having  long  ceased  to  be  a  menace 
to  society — at  least  in  Anglo-Saxon  countries — the  in- 
terest in  this  play  now  lies  in  its  sprightly  plot  and 
faithful  characterization,  as  well  as  in  the  homely 
sayings  of  Ottavio,  a  phlegmatic,  easy-going  philoso- 
pher, who,  as  Signor  Masi  hints,  may  have  been  Gol- 
doni  himself  translated  to  the  stage.  Although  the 
sapient  words  of  this  character  are  many,  there  is 
space  here  only  for  this  single  speech,  uttered  when 
Flaminio,  a  young  lover,  complains  of  the  fickleness 
of  Ottavio's  daughter: 

My  dear  friend,  my  daughter  is  only  a  woman  like  the  rest. 
She  will  have  good  moments  and  bad  moments.  Treat  her  like 
the  weather.  Enjoy  the  calm,  fly  from  the  thunder,  and  when  a 
storm  comes,  retire  and  wait  until  the  sun  comes  out. 

Another  passage  worthy  of  translation  is  the  con- 
stitution of  Goldoni's  pseudo-Masonic  lodge,  which 
is  read  to  a  candidate  seeking  admission,  while  the 
inquisitive  women  listen  in  their  hiding  place,  a  doc- 
ument so  commendable  that  it  shall  be  given  in  full, 
in  the  hope  that  some  club  of  the  present  day  may 
adopt  it: 

Article  i.  No  one  shall  be  admitted  to  membership  who  is  not 
upright,  civil,  and  well-mannered. 

Article  2.  Each  member  may  amuse  himself  as  he  will  in  ways 
lawful,  honest,  virtuous,  and  of  worthy  example. 

Article  3.  Members  shall  dine  and  sup  together,  but  soberly 
and  moderately,  and  any  one  drinking  to  excess  or  becoming  in- 
toxicated, will  for  the  first  offence  be  condemned  to  pay  for  the 
dinner  or  supper  given  on  that  occasion,  and  for  the  second  ex- 
pelled from  membership. 


298  GOLDONI 

Article  4.  Each  member  shall  contribute  one  scudo  toward  the 
maintenance  of  necessary  things,  such  as  furniture,  lights,  service, 
books,  paper,  etc. 

Article  5.  The  admission  of  women  is  forever  forbidden,  in 
order  that  scandals,  dissensions,  jealousies,  and  similar  matters 
shall  not  arise. 

Article  6.  Surplus  money  not  used  for  expenses  shall  be  de- 
posited in  a  coffer  for  the  relief  of  some  worthy  poor  man. 

Article  7.  Should  any  member  suffer  misfortune,  without  loss 
of  honour,  he  shall  be  assisted  by  the  others  and  defended  with  fra- 
ternal love. 

Article  8.  A  member  committing  any  crime  or  unworthy  act 
shall  be  expelled. 

Article  9.  In  order  that  all  ceremonies,  compliments,  and  af- 
fectations may  be  banished,  any  one  wishing  to  leave  may  go,  any 
one  wishing  to  remain  may  stay,  and  there  shall  be  no  other  salu- 
tation or  compliment  than  "Friendship,  friendship." 

Although  Pantalone  figures  in  The  Inquisitive 
Women,  his  part  is  slight.  Still,  one  of  his 
apothegms  bears  repetition:  "It  is  not  birth,"  he 
says,  "that  makes  a  gentleman,  but  good  deeds." 
This  shrewd  merchant  is  manifestly  out  of  place  in  a 
masonic  lodge,  yet  nowhere  does  he  seem  so  ill  at 
ease  as  in  The  Unknown  (IJ Incognita],  a  play  of 
which  the  scene  is  laid  near  Naples.  Far  from  his 
native  Venice,  he  appears  awkwardly  here  as  the 
father  of  a  lovesick  son,  enamoured  of  a  persecuted 
maiden  whose  adventures  entail  a  plot  so  complicated 
and  unreal  that  it  is  difficult  to  believe  Goldoni  is  its 
author. 

In  The  Lovers  (Gli  Innamorati] ,  Pantalone  plays 
no  part,  the  family  to  which  we  are  here  introduced 
being  of  the  haute  bourgeoisie  and  no  longer  in  trade. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE    299 

The  story  unfolded  in  this  comedy  is  one  of  endear- 
ments, suspicions,  quarrels,  and  reconciliations,  told 
according  to  the  conventional  formula :  the  lovers  in 
this  instance  were  drawn  from  life,  however,  their 
originals  being  Maddalena  Poloni,  the  daughter  of 
Goldoni's  Roman  landlord,  and  Bartolommeo  Pinto, 
her  betrothed,  in  whose  wavering  love-affair  our 
dramatist  had  assisted  as  confidant  during  his  resi- 
dence in  Rome.  Whether  or  not  Fabrizio,  the  head 
of  the  bourgeois  household  here  presented,  is  a  por- 
trait of  his  worthy  Roman  host,  Pietro  Poloni,  Gol- 
doni  does  not  inform  us,  yet  he  is  a  lifelike  por- 
trayal of  a  tuft-hunting  parvenu,  who,  to  impress 
his  guests  with  his  social  importance,  talks  of  the 
grand  people  he  knows.  To  curry  favour  with  im- 
portant people  this  wealthy  upstart  offers  to  lend 
them  his  cook,  his  atlas,  and  even  his  collection  of 
old  masters ;  yet  although  the  latter  are  spurious,  he 
is  no  such  credulous  gull  as  the  unwitting  collector 
of  false  antiques  who  gives  name  to  The  Antiqua- 
rian's Family  (La  Famiglia  dell'  antiquario). 

Impoverished  by  his  passion  for  antiques,  Count 
Anselmo,  the  protagonist  of  this  latter  comedy,  is 
just  the  sort  of  dupe  to  whom  the  modern  picture 
sharp  sells  his  Corots,  the  cheat  in  this  case  being  his 
own  servant,  Brighella,  a  rogue  who  induces  his  fel- 
low-townsman Arlecchino  to  play  the  role  of  an  Ar- 
menian archaeologist  and  palm  off  on  his  master  an 
old  kitchen  lamp  as  "an  eternal  light  from  the  tomb 
of  Bartholomew,"  and  a  leaf  from  a  book  of  modern 


300  GOLDONI 

Greek  love-songs  as  "a  treaty  of  peace  between 
Athens  and  Sparta  penned  by  Demosthenes'  own 
hand."  The  whims  of  this  would-be  antiquarian, 
whom  even  an  expert's  opinion  that  his  collection  is 
rubbish  cannot  cure  of  his  mania,  form,  however, 
only  the  atmospheric  background  for  a  comedy  on 
the  perennial  mother-in-law  problem,  Goldoni's 
Sub-title — The  Mother-ln-Law  and  the  Daughter-ln- 
Law  (La  Suocera  e  la  nuora) — describing  the  action 
more  accurately  than  The  Antiquarian  s  Family,  this 
particular  antiquarian's  household  being  dominated 
by  his  wife  until  Doralice,  his  son's  wife,  takes  the 
domestic  bit  in  her  mouth. 

When  Count  Anselmo  has  spent  the  last  paolo  of 
her  dowry  on  spurious  relics,  Doralice,  rebelling 
against  the  snubs  inflicted  upon  her  by  her  mother- 
in-law  because  of  her  plebeian  birth,  robs  the  latter 
of  one  of  her  truculent  cicisbei  and  insults  her  into 
the  bargain;  whereupon  Pantalone,  this  trouble- 
maker's father,  and  a  wholly  sensible  man  of  af- 
fairs as  well,  quietly  gathers  the  domestic  reins  into 
his  own  hands.  Inducing  Count  Anselmo  to  make 
him  the  assignee  of  his  bankrupt  estate,  Pantalone 
holds  the  purse-strings  and  is  able  thereby  to  force 
the  warring  women  to  hold  their  tongues.  Making 
the  antiquarian  an  allowance  of  one  hundred  scudl 
per  annum  to  squander  on  false  antiques,  he  dis- 
misses a  talebearing  housemaid,  consigns  the  elder 
termagant  to  the  upper  and  the  younger  to  the  lower 
floor  of  the  house,  and  remarks  as  the  curtain  falls 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE     301 

that  "if  they  do  not  see  each  other  or  talk  to  each 
other,  quiet  may  perhaps  obtain,  this  being  the  only 
way  a  mother-in-law  and  daughter-in-law  can  live 
together  in  harmony."  Yet,  as  Goldoni  says,  in 
commenting  upon  the  complete  reconciliation  made 
to  take  place  between  them  by  a  French  adapter 
of  this  play,  there  can  be  "no  assurance  that  on  the 
morrow  the  disputes  of  these  two  vixens  will  not 
break  forth  anew." 

Quarrelsome  little  Doralice  is  wholly  unlike  gen- 
tle Rosaura  of  The  Sensible  Wife,  another  daughter 
of  Pantalone  wedded  to  a  nobleman's  son ;  yet  she  is 
no  more  vixenish  or  vulgar  than  her  mother-in-law, 
who,  despite  her  superior  birth,  is  quite  as  ill-bred  as 
this  daughter-in-law  whose  ignoble  birth  has  tar- 
nished a  proud  name.  Indeed,  although  Count  An- 
selmo  is  nobly  born,  the  behaviour  of  his  family  is 
essentially  bourgeois,  and  the  same  may  be  said  of 
the  noble  family  in  Domestic  Bickerings  (I  Puntigll 
domestici)  the  theme  of  which  is  the  servant  ques- 
tion :  a  topic  apparently  as  rife  in  Goldoni's  day  as  in 
our  own,  since,  in  speaking  of  this  play,  he  says  it  was 
inspired  by  several  families  he  had  seen  to  be  "the 
dupes  of  their  attachment  for  their  servants."  In 
both  The  Antiquarian's  Family  and  Domestic  Bicker- 
ings, two  families,  living  under  the  same  roof,  quarrel 
and  listen  to  the  tales  their  servants  bear;  in  both  the 
titles  of  count  and  countess  are  borne  by  certain  char- 
acters, and  in  each,  it  may  be  added,  the  truth  of  Ba- 
retti's  aspersion  is  manifest,  Goldoni's  princesses  talk* 


302  GOLDONI 

ing  like  ladies'  maids.  Hence  these  families,  though 
noble  in  name,  are  bourgeois  in  manner. 

Another  comedy  of  the  upper  bourgeoisie  is  The 
Fanatic  Poet  (II  Poeta  fanatlco),  a  play  in  which 
our  dramatist  ridicules  the  poetic  arrogance  of  a 
wealthy  burgher  he  had  known,  while  satirizing 
mildly  as  well  the  euphuistic  pretensions  of  the  Ar- 
cadian Academies.  Every  one  in  the  household  of 
Ottavio,  the  fanatic  in  question,  even  to  Brighella, 
his  servant,  is  encouraged  to  spout  verse,  Beatrice, 
his  second  wife,  alone  being  free  from  this  besetting 
folly;  yet  The  Fanatic  Poet  is  a  skit  rather  than  a 
play,  and  is,  as  its  author  declares  frankly,  "one  of 
his  most  feeble  comedies."  Furthermore,  honest 
Pantalone  plays  no  part  therein,  therefore  it  does  not 
truly  typify  his  Venice. 

Accustomed,  as  he  was,  to  haggling  in  the  marts  of 
trade,  this  worthy  citizen  could  hardly  abstain  from 
recourse  to  the  law;  hence  he  was  often  either  plain- 
tiff or  defendant.  Moreover,  Goldoni  was  himself  a 
lawyer,  so  that  the  law  naturally  plays  a  part  in 
many  of  his  comedies.  Unlike  Moliere,  who  had 
studied  law  but  had  not  practised  it,  Goldoni  treated 
the  profession  seriously;  often  portraying  wicked  law- 
yers, as  in  The  Cavalier  and  the  Lady,  where  a  thiev- 
ing solicitor  despoils  a  poor  woman  for  his  own  ben- 
efit, and  in  Domestic  Bickerings,  where  another 
conscienceless  man  of  law  thrives  on  the  difficulties 
of  a  warring  family.  Again,  in  The  Impostor,  there 
is  an  attorney,  who  shows  a  client  how  he  may  outwit 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE     303 

his  creditors ;  while  in  The  Lucky  Heiress,  a  singular 
will  leaves  another  lawyer  heir  to  his  brother's  es- 
tate in  case  the  latter's  daughter  does  not  marry  his 
former  partner.  Yet  unscrupulous  as  are  the  in- 
trigues of  this  Tartuffe  of  the  robe,  he  is  outwitted  by 
a  valet  and  loses  the  inheritance.  In  The  Prudent 
Man,  Pantalone  appears  as  his  own  lawyer  to  defend 
his  wife  against  the  charge  of  having  attempted  to 
poison  him,  a  case  Goldoni  declares  to  have  come  un- 
der his  own  observation  when  practising  law  at  Pisa; 
while  in  The  Clever  Woman,  Rosaura  the  heroine, 
in  order  to  make  her  lover  fulfil  his  promise  of  mar- 
riage, pleads  her  own  cause  in  legal  phrases  worthy 
a  doctor  of  Padua. 

Yet  howsoever  severely  he  may  have  scored  the 
evil  practices  of  his  profession  in  these  plays,  Gol- 
doni makes  full  atonement  in  The  Venetian  Advo- 
cate (L'Avvocato  veneziano),  an  apotheosis  of  the 
law  in  which  the  hero,  a  Venetian  lawyer,  falls  in 
love  with  his  client's  opponent,  yet  remains  true  to  his 
professional  honour.  By  winning  the  lawsuit,  he  re- 
duces his  sweetheart  to  penury,  but  gallantly  amends 
the  wrong  by  offering  her  his  hand  and  fortune. 
When  Florindo,  his  friend  and  client,  discovering  his 
passion,  offers  to  pay  his  fee  and  permit  him  to  with- 
draw from  the  case,  Alberto,  this  lawyer,  thus  indig- 
nantly answers  him : 

Sior  Florindo,  I  have  let  you  talk.  I  have  let  you  fulminate 
without  defending  myself.  Now  that  you  have  finished,  I  shall 
speak  briefly.  That  humanity  is  frail  I  do  not  deny;  that  a  wise 


304  GOLDONI 

and  prudent  man  may  fall  in  love,  I  grant;  but  for  a  man  of 
honour  to  permit  himself  to  be  carried  away  by  a  blind  passion  to 
the  prejudice  of  his  dignity  and  self-esteem  is  harder  than  you  be- 
lieve, and  if  in  the  matter  at  hand  there  are  bad  examples,  Alberto 
is  not  capable  of  following  them.  The  doubt  you  demonstrate 
regarding  my  honesty  and  faith  is  to  me  a  grave  offence,  but  I  am 
not  in  a  position  to  show  resentment,  because  my  resentment  might 
in  that  instance  substantiate  your  words.  I  am  here  to  defend 
your  case,  I  am  here  to  conduct  it.  I  shall  conduct  it  because  my 
honour  is  involved,  not  for  the  vile  advantage  you  have  brutally 
and  unreasonably  had  the  audacity  to  offer  me.  You  will  see  with 
what  ardour,  heart,  and  spirit  I  shall  defend  you.  You  will  know 
then  who  I  am;  you  will  repent  of  having  offended  me  with  un- 
worthy suspicions,  and  you  will  learn  to  think  better  of  honest 
men  and  honourable  advocates. 

Although  this  Venetian  barrister  opposes  the  pe- 
dantic written  pleadings  of  a  Bolognese  doctor  with 
arguments  elegantly  and  easily  extemporized  in  his 
mellifluent  native  speech,  he  is  not  a  lawyer,  but 
rather  a  mouthpiece  for  his  author,  who  declares  with 
his  habitual  naivete  that  his  professional  brethren, 
"accustomed  to  seeing  the  robe  made  ridiculous  in 
the  old  improvised  comedies,"  were  satisfied  with  "the 
honourable  manner  in  which  he  had  presented  it." 
"Yet  evil  persons  were  not  lacking  to  envenom  his 
intentions,"  he  adds  bitterly,  there  being  one  among 
them  "who  cried  aloud  that  it  was  in  reality  a  criticism 
of  the  lawyers,"  and  that  he  had  presented  an  in- 
corruptible lawyer  "in  order  to  heighten  by  contrast 
the  weakness  and  avidity  of  a  host  of  others." 

If,  in  The  Venetian  Advocate,  Goldoni  portrayed 
a  lawyer  such  as  he  would  have  liked  to  be,  in  The 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE    305 

Honest  Adventurer  (UAvventurlere  onorato) ,  he  de- 
picted, as  he  openly  avowed,  a  hero  with  many  of  his 
own  characteristics,  the  rolling  stone  who  gave  name 
to  this  play  having  been  like  his  author  a  lawyer,  a 
doctor,  a  court  official,  secretary,  consul,  and  dramatic 
poet.  Here  the  likeness  ceases,  for,  although  Gol- 
doni  had  had  a  few  honourless  love-affairs,  he  was 
certainly  a  better  fellow  than  this  adventurer,  whose 
"honesty"  consisted  in  telling  a  girl  who  loved  him 
that,  although  he  preferred  another,  he  would  marry 
her — a  promise  kept  only  until  a  rich  widow  had  paid 
for  the  breach  of  it. 

Still  the  escapades  of  this  adventurer  of  doubtful 
honesty  are  more  entertaining  by  far  than  the  bour- 
geois sermons  Goldoni  was  in  the  habit  of  preaching 
from  time  to  time.  The  Good  Family  (La  Buona 
famlglla),  for  instance,  he  calls  "a  moral  play,  useful 
to  society,"  which  was  "applauded  by  sensible  per- 
sons, worthy  couples,  wise  fathers,  and  prudent  moth- 
ers"; yet  it  proved  to  be  so  tiresome  that,  to  quote  its 
author  once  more,  "it  had  no  luck  upon  the  stage." 
The  Fond  Mother  (La  Madre  amoroso) ,  too,  a  piece 
in  which  a  mother  sacrifices  herself  for  her  daughter's 
happiness,  though  suggestive  in  theme  of  Maurice 
Donnay's  admirable  modern  play,  L'Autre  danger, 
is  but  another  fustian  sermon  best  passed  in  silence. 
Indeed,  Goldoni's  tragedies  bourgeoises,  as  his 
French  contemporaries  styled  plays  of  this  stilted  na- 
ture, when  without  Pantalone's  honest  personality,  are 
but  lachrymose  comedies  savouring  of  Diderot,  come- 


3o6  GOLDONI 

dies  more  magniloquent  than  human,  in  the  penning 
of  which  our  dramatist  forswore  his  genius. 

To  return  to  Pantalone's  strait-laced  household  is 
indeed  a  relief.  Here,  at  least,  likable  human  be- 
ings are  met  with,  though  often  they  are  over-senti- 
mentalized, as  in  The  Devoted  Servant  (La  Serva 
amorosa),  a  play  wherein  the  son  of  a  merchant  of 
Venice  is  driven  from  the  parental  hearth  by  a  step- 
mother's intrigues  on  behalf  of  her  own  offspring,15 
the  crucial  situation,  in  which  Corallina,  the  house- 
maid, disguised  as  a  notary's  clerk,  induces  the  mer- 
chant to  feign  death  and  learn  that  his  second  wife  has 
married  him  only  through  self-interest,  being  taken 
bodily  from  Moliere.  In  The  Clever  Lady's  Maid 
(La  Cameriera  brillante],  a  more  traditional  sou- 
brette  is  the  protagonist.  Here  Pantalone  appears  as 
a  close-fisted  old  widower  who  forbids  his  house  to  the 
admirers  of  his  daughters,  Argentina,  the  vivacious, 
resourceful,  yet  unscrupulous  soubrette  of  French 
classical  comedy,  who  gives  this  play  its  name,  being 
the  real  mistress  of  his  household  since,  through  her 
wiles,  the  old  merchant  suffers  not  only  the  loss  of  his 
daughters,  but  of  their  dowries  as  well. 

In  The  Housekeeper  (La  Castalda),  the  hand  and 
fortune  of  Pantalone,  again  a  rich  widower,  is  the 
prize  for  the  attainment  of  which  an  intriguing 
menial  sharpens  her  wits.  In  this  play  Pantalone's 
daughters  are  married,  and  with  his  niece  Rosaura  to 
cheer  him  with  her  pretty  presence,  he  would  have 

15  A  situation  almost  identical  with  this  occurs  in  //  Padre  dl  fa- 
miglia. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE     307 

passed  his  remaining  days  in  comfort  at  his  luxurious 
villa  on  the  Brenta,  had  the  minx  not  been  bent  upon 
winning  a  dowry,  as  well  as  her  rich  uncle's  permis- 
sion to  wed  handsome  Florindo,  the  lover  of  her 
choice. 

Rosaura,  however,  is  not  alone  in  her  designs  upon 
Pantalone's  wealth.  Beatrice,  a  widow  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood, comes  to  his  fine  house  attended  by  Lelio, 
a  fop,  the  one  with  a  cap  set  for  the  uncle,  the  other 
avowedly  to  wed  the  niece.  But  these  fortune-hunt- 
ers meet  their  match  in  Corallina,  the  housekeeper, 
an  artful  female,  who  having  fully  made  up  her  mind 
to  wed  Pantalone  herself,  will  brook  no  interference 
in  her  plans.  To  be  sure,  she  is  loved  by  honest  Fran- 
giotto,  Pantalone's  maitre  d' hot  el,  and  has  a  liking 
for  the  lad,  but  she  is  no  Mirandolina,  content  to  wed 
in  her  station.  Indeed,  she  is  not  even  an  honest 
housekeeper,  since  she  feeds  Arlecchino  and  his  im- 
poverished master  on  the  fat  of  her  employer's  table 
and  gives  them  his  best  wine  to  drink. 

Having  no  real  liking  for  his  villa,  or  the  fash- 
ionable friends  of  his  niece,  poor  Pantalone  fain 
would  pass  his  evenings  dozing  in  his  armchair  with 
his  comfortable  red  slippers  on  his  weary  old  feet. 
Longing  for  the  days  when  his  fat  wife  Eufemia  sat 
beside  him,  he  pictures  himself  once  more  in  a  quiet 
corner  of  his  beloved  Venice,  while  in  his  dreams  a 
good  wife  still  knits  at  his  elbow.  As  his  dear  Eu- 
femia is  dead,  why  not  another,  and  who  can  cheer 
his  declining  years  better,  he  asks  himself,  than  Co- 


308  GOLDONI 

rallina,  his  housekeeper,  who  knows  his  whims  and  is 
devotedly  attached  to  him?  Without  more  ado  he 
asks  her  to  marry  him,  but  Corallina  is  a  clever  hussy. 
Knowing  the  widow  Beatrice  also  has  designs  upon 
her  master  and  that  his  niece  must  be  propitiated, 
Corallina  keeps  the  old  dotard  on  tenter-hooks  while 
manoeuvring  to  make  her  triumph  more  complete. 
In  the  meantime  she  thus  soliloquizes : 

So  he  is  willing  to  marry  me!  If  that  is  so,  I  will  see  that  he 
does  it  perfectly,  and  if  I  am  to  become  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
I  will  hereafter  mend  my  ways.  No  longer  will  I  deal  generously 
with  everybody.  In  this  house  swindlers  shall  have  no  further 
luck. 

This  threat  is  fulfilled,  for,  when  hungry  Arlec- 
chino  and  his  out-at-elbows  master  come  again  to 
whiff  the  succulent  odours  of  her  kitchen,  Corallina 
slams  the  door  in  their  faces.  By  making  Pantalone 
believe  she  is  necessary  to  his  comfort  and  by  threat- 
ening to  leave  his  house  if  he  marries  any  one  else, 
she  forces  him  to  declare  his  readiness  to  marry  her, 
with  the  artful  widow  Beatrice  as  a  witness;  while 
into  niece  Rosaura's  good  graces  she  worms  herself 
by  assisting  her  in  a  scheme  to  obtain  her  uncle's  re- 
luctant consent  to  her  marriage  with  Florindo.16 
Thus  all  obstacles  to  Corallina's  own  designs  are 
swept  away.  Having  been,  as  she  says,  aa  faithful 
servant,"  she  will  perhaps  make  Pantalone  "a  dis- 
creet wife"  whom  "he  will  not  repent  of  having  hon- 

16  A  scene  wherein  Rosaura  and  Corallina  change  places,  the  mis- 
tress playing  the  housekeeper  and  the  housekeeper  the  mistress,  in  a 
manner  suggestive  of  Marivaux's  Le  Jeu  de  I' amour  et  du  hazard. 


COMEDIES  OF  THE  BOURGEOISIE     309 

cured  with  his  hand" ;  still  it  is  hard  not  to  pity  the 
old  fellow,  once  a  power  in  the  marts  of  Venice,  now 
the  prey  of  a  designing  hussy. 

Wearing  the  black  skull-cap  and  flowing  robe,  the 
long  trousers  and  pointed  slippers  of  his  forefathers, 
and  guarding  his  ducats  as  sedulously  as  they,  Panta- 
lone  ever  follows  devotedly  in  their  footsteps,  though 
his  children  blush  for  his  antecedents.  Fain  would 
he  plant  the  lioned  banner  of  St.  Mark  wherever 
the  Turk,  the  Hungarian,  the  Greek,  or  the  Genoese 
has  the  temerity  to  oppose  his  beloved  Venice,  but, 
like  her,  he  is  decrepit.  His  son  is  a  spendthrift,  his 
daughters  are  perfumed  zentildonne  with  cicisbei  at 
their  beck  and  call.  It  is  perhaps  better  that  he 
should  pass  his  old  age  in  his  villa  on  the  Brenta,  with 
Corallina  his  housekeeper-wife  to  nurse  him  and  safe- 
guard his  strong  box,  than  that  the  new-fangled  ways 
of  his  children  should  break  his  conservative  old 
heart. 


X 

COMEDIES  IN  THE  VENETIAN  DIALECT 

"A  I  "\HERE  is  a  considerable  number  of  Vene- 
tian Plays  in  my  Collection,"  says  Goldoni 
in  his  memoirs,  "and  perhaps  it  is  these 
that  do  me  the  greatest  honour."  In  this  terse  sen- 
tence he  summarizes  his  dramatic  work.  These 
Venetian  Plays  not  only  do  him  the  greatest  honour, 
but  they  distinguish  him  as  the  pioneer  naturalist  in 
the  drama  of  the  world ; — the  pioneer  poet  of  a  peo- 
ple, too,  no  previous  dramatist  having  painted  the 
life  of  the  streets  in  colours  so  truthful  nor  voiced 
plebeian  sentiments  upon  the  stage  by  faithfully 
drawn  characters  of  the  proletariat,  neither  clownish 
nor  obscene. 

Moliere  was  the  first  dramatic  realist,  and  his  char- 
acters were  in  a  large  degree  taken  from  life,  but  the 
few  peasants  in  his  plays  are  clowns,  and  even  his  mid- 
dle-class characters  are  not  actually  translated  from 
life  to  the  stage,  like  many  of  Goldoni's.  Moreover, 
their  sentiments  are  sometimes  so  tempered  by  their 
author's  avowed  purpose  to  paint  "ridiculous  like- 
nesses" of  the  vices  of  his  times,  that  occasionally  they 
become  thematic.  Having  no  thesis  to  hold,  and  no 

purpose  to  fulfil  except  "not  to  spoil  nature,"  Gol- 

310 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    311 

doni  presented  life  as  it  appeared  to  him.  He  spoiled 
nature,  however,  whenever  he  transplanted  some  ex- 
otic story  to  his  native  soil,  or  sought  to  emulate 
Moliere.  Only  when  he  painted  the  life  of  Venice 
did  he  become  Venice's  Gran  Goldoni,  in  whose  heart 
throbbed  the  sentiments  of  her  people.  Many  of  his 
comedies  written  in  Tuscan  present  Venetian  life, 
and  in  a  majority  of  these,  Pantalone  speaks  the  Vene- 
tian dialect;  yet  when  he  discards  the  Tuscan  lan- 
guage and  the  conventional  characters  of  the  Impro- 
vised Comedy  entirely  for  the  soft  speech  of  Venice, 
and  the  characters  he  met  daily  in  the  tortuous  maze 
of  her  busy  streets,  he  becomes  more  truly  the  poet  of 
her  people. 

Although,  at  the  time  when  he  was  the  dramatist 
of  Imer's  troupe,  he  wrote  a  few  scenari  in  which 
the  characters  spoke  Venetian,  the  first  of  his  Vene- 
tian plays  that  truly  does  him  honour  is  The  Respecta- 
ble Girl  (La  Putta  onorata),  a  comedy  .with  a  daugh- 
ter of  the  people  as  its  heroine,  produced  during  his 
first  season  in  Venice  as  Medebac's  playwright.  "I 
had  seen  at  the  San  Luca  Theatre,"  he  says,  "a  piece 
called  The  Girls  of  the  Castle  Quarter  (Le  Putte  di 
Castello),  a  popular  comedy,  the  principal  character 
of  which  was  a  Venetian  girl  without  talents,  morals, 
or  address,  and  I  gave  one  in  the  same  style,  but  decent 
and  instructive,  which  I  called  The  Respectable 
Girl!'  "In  some  of  the  scenes  of  this  comedy,"  he 
continues,  "I  painted  the  Venetian  gondoliers  from 
nature  in  a  manner  exceedingly  entertaining  to  those 


3i2  GOLDONI 

acquainted  with  the  language  and  customs  of  my 
country,"  and  as  the  gondoliers  of  Venice  were  al- 
lowed places  in  the  theatre  when  the  pit  was  not 
crowded,  "they  were  delighted,"  he  adds,  "to  see 
themselves  put  upon  the  stage,  and  I  became  their 
friend." 

In  The  Clever  Woman  he  had  presented  a  girl  of 
the  people  as  his  heroine ;  but  she  does  not  talk  the  lan- 
guage of  the  people,  while  her  conventional  actions 
are  lachrymose.  Bettina,  his  "respectable  girl," 
however,  is  truly  of  the  streets  of  Venice,  a  natural 
character,  who,  to  quote  her  author,  is  "new,  agree- 
able, and  national," — a  little  laundress,  who,  knowing 
the  pitfalls  of  a  wicked  city,  knits  prudently  upon  her 
balcony,  rather  than  risk  her  virtue  in  the  enticing 
street  below.  When  she  goes  to  the  parish  church 
to  be  shriven,  her  shawl  is  drawn  discreetly  over  her 
glossy  hair;  though  little  white-stockinged  feet  gleam 
coquettishly  above  her  sandals,  the  ardency  of  her 
dark  eyes  is  hidden  in  the  demureness  of  her  down- 
ward glance.  Even  Pasqualino,  the  gondolier's  son 
whom  she  loves,  may  not  attend  her  abroad,  nor  pay 
his  court  to  her  unaccompanied.  "When  people  are 
in  love,"  she  tells  him,  "they  should  not  expose  them- 
selves to  the  temptation  of  being  alone.  It  is  true  that 
a  girl  may  repair  her  fault  by  marriage,  but  she  will 
be  pointed  at  none  the  less.  There,'  they  will  say, 
4s  the  one  who  eloped  with  a  lover.' '  Though  her 
southern  blood  flows  warmly,  Bettina  knows  well  the 
perils  that  surround  her,  for  when  Pasqualino's  fa- 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    313 

ther,  good  Menego  Cainello,  the  gondolier,  re- 
proaches her  for  being  engaged  to  his  son  without  his 
knowledge,  she  answers  him  in  these  sophisticated 
words : 

We  poor  girls  try  to  marry  honestly.  If  a  young  man  seeks 
our  company  and  wants  us  for  his  wife,  we  are  not  obliged  to 
ask  him  first  if  his  father  will  be  pleased.  Congratulate  yourself, 
Master  Menego,  that  you  have  to  deal  with  a  respectable  girl,  for 
another  in  my  place  might  have  favoured  you  with  a  grandson 
before  you  had  a  daughter-in-law. 

When  the  Marchese  di  Ripa  Verde,  a  married 
rake,  is  introduced  surreptitiously  into  her  chamber 
by  her  trickish  sister,  Bettina  spurns  him  in  these  pa- 
triotic words : 

And  you  have  a  wife,  and  you  come  into  the  house  of  an  hon- 
est girl!  Who  do  you  think  I  am?  Some  light-o'-love?  We 
are  in  Venice,  I'd  have  you  know.  In  Venice  there  is  pleasure 
for  all  who  seek  it;  but  to  find  it,  you  must  go  to  the  haunts  by 
the  Piazza;  you  must  go  where  the  shutters  are,  and  the  cushions 
are  on  the  balconies,  or  straight  to  the  houses  of  those  who  stand 
in  their  doorways ;  but  in  decent  Venetian  homes  you  cannot  knock 
at  girls'  doors  so  easily.  When  you  foreigners,  away  from  Venice, 
talk  about  her  women,  you  make  one  nosegay  of  them  all;  but 
by  the  blood  of  Our  Lady  you  are  wrong.  The  girls  of  respecta- 
ble families  in  this  land  have  good  sense,  and  they  live  in  a  stricter 
way,  perhaps,  than  is  to  be  found  in  any  other  place.  Venetian 
girls  are  charming;  but  as  to  their  virtues  I  agree  with  the  one 
who  says: 

Girls  of  Venice  are  a  treasure, 
Difficult  to  win  indeed: 

True  as  gold  in  fullest  measure; 
None  their  hearts  will  e'er  mislead. 

Rome  vaunts  the  glory  of  Lucretia: 

Yet  virtue's  found  in  our  Venetia. 


3H  GOLDONI 

Bettina's  story  is  conventional.  A  band  of  ruffians 
bribed  by  the  Marchese  di  Ripa  Verde  carry  her  off 
by  force  to  his  house,  where  his  pleasure-loving  wife 
is  so  touched  by  her  sincerity  that  she  helps  her  to 
evade  her  wicked  lord's  clutches  by  exchanging 
clothes  with  her,  an  artifice  that  enables  Bettina,  once 
safe  of  the  marchese's  house,  to  escape  in  the  carnival 
crowd ;  the  rake's  wife  being  caught  by  him  and  car- 
ried to  his  chamber  under  the  impression  that  she  is 
his  inamorata.  Bettina  has  a  protector  in  the  person 
of  Pantalone,  a  rich  merchant  who  reveres  her,  and 
would  like  to  marry  her,  a  desire  in  which  he  is 
balked,  however,  by  Pasqualino.  This  listless  young 
spark,  beloved  by  Bettina,  turns  out  to  be  Pantalone's 
own  child:  the  wife  of  Menego,  the  gondolier,  in  or- 
der that  her  own  son  may  inherit  Pantalone's  ducats, 
having  in  the  manner  of  Gilbert's  dear  little  Butter- 
cup, "mixed  two  babies  up." 

Although  her  story  is  trite,  Bettina  is  no  prude,  but 
rather  a  tender,  simple  girl  of  the  people,  whose  vir- 
tue is  inspired  by  a  worldly  wisdom  acquired  in  the 
rough  school  of  experience.  Knowing  the  world,  and 
not  ashamed  of  her  knowledge;  preferring  the  simple 
betrothal  ring  of  her  Pasqualino  to  the  diamonds  of 
the  scented  rake  she  scorns,  this  sturdy  blond  girl  of 
the  streets  is  a  child  of  nature,  grown  to  fine  woman- 
hood in  the  free  air  of  Venice; — in  short,  the  heroine 
of  a  people,  and  not  of  an  aristocracy  or  of  a  bour- 
geoisie, such  as  all  stage  heroines  before  her  had  been. 
Moreover,  throughout  this  play  a  note  of  patriotism 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    315 

sounds  lustily,  as  in  these  stirring  words  uttered  by 
Menego,  the  gondolier,  to  Pasqualino,  his  supposed 
son,  who  being  of  bourgeois  blood,  proves  the  immu- 
tability of  inheritance  by  preferring  scrivening  to  the 
oar: 

Glad  would  I  be  to  see  thee  at  work,  could  I  see  thee  stand- 
ing on  a  gondola's  poop;  could  I  see  thee  at  a  regular  ferry,  or 
in  the  service  of  some  good  master,  following  the  calling  of  thy 
father,  thy  grandfather,  and  thy  entire  family.  What!  dost  thou 
think,  thou  chit  of  a  coxcomb,  that  the  calling  of  a  gondolier  is 
not  honourable  and  respectable?  Thou  young  donkey!  In  this 
country  we  boatmen  constitute  a  body  of  men,  the  like  of  which 
is  not  to  be  found  elsewhere  in  the  world.  We  serve,  it  is  true, 
but  ours  is  a  noble  service  that  does  not  soil  the  hands.  We  are 
the  most  confidential  secretaries  of  our  masters,  and  no  danger  is 
there  of  secrets  leaking  from  our  lips.  We  are  better  paid  than 
others,  we  maintain  our  families  respectably;  we  have  credit  with 
the  tradesfolk;  we  are  models  of  fidelity;  we  are  famous  for  our 
•quips,  and  the  readiness  of  our  wit;  above  all,  we  are  so  loyal 
and  so  warmly  attached  to  our  country  that  we  would  shed  our 
blood  for  her,  and  fight  the  entire  world,  if  we  heard  our  Venice 
slandered,  for  she  is  the  queen  of  the  sea. 

The  Respectable  Girl  is  an  epic  of  the  streets.  The 
wonder  is  that  Goldoni  should  have  written  it  at  a 
time  when  the  nobles  in  his  theatre  spat  at  will  from 
their  boxes  upon  the  plebeians  in  the  pit  below;  when 
the  people  were  only  a  herd  of  hewers  of  wood  and 
drawers  of  water,  "on  their  feet  when  their  betters 
sat,  at  work  when  their  betters  slept," — a  common 
herd  of  lackeys,  porters,  serving-maids,  fishermen, 
weavers,  artisans,  butchers,  bakers,  candlestick-mak- 
ers, or  what  not,  who  were  the  butts  of  comedy  till  he 


3i6  GOLDONI 

made  them  its  heroes  and  heroines.  Yet  this  indus- 
trious, gracious,  spontaneous,  humour-loving,  pleas- 
ure-loving herd  were  all  sons  and  daughters  of  free 
Venice,  proud  of  her  traditions  and  still  believing  in 
her  indomitable  strength.  Their  excellence  is  apo- 
theosized in  the  person  of  golden-haired  Bettina,  their 
inflammable,  ironical  nature  is  revealed  in  the  fol- 
lowing scene  where,  two  gondolas  having  collided 
in  a  narrow  canal,  their  gondoliers  thus  revile  each 
other : 

NANE 

Back  water,  so  that  I  may  go  ahead. 

MENEGO 

I  be  going  ahead,  too;  back  water  a  couple  of  strokes,  thus 
may  we  all  pass. 

NANE 

I  back  water!  Back  water  thyself;  thou  are  headed  down 
stream. 

MENEGO 

I  have  a  load  aboard,  brother;  I  cannot  do  it. 

NANE 

I'll  not  budge  either.     I  have  three  passengers  aboard. 

MENEGO 

If  thou  hast  three,  I  have  five. 

NANE 

Five  or  six,  it  is  your  place  to  make  way  for  me. 

MENEGO 

Who  says  it  is  my  place  to  move  ?  Thy  skull  is  cracked.  Canst 
thou  not  see  that  should  I  back  I'll  have  fifty  boats  beneath  my 
stern;  and  I  must  get  through  to  the  canal.  Thou  hast  but  three 
boats  to  avoid.  Clear  the  way. 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    317 

NANE 

Come,  Master  Menego,  make  not  a  fool  of  thyself. 

MENEGO 

Wouldst  thou  teach  me? — me,  who  have  been  rowing  in  the  re- 
gattas these  twenty  years? 

NANE 

Even  though  thou  dost  row  in  the  regattas,  I  know  my  calling, 
and  I  be  telling  thee  it  is  thy  place  to  back  water. 

MENEGO 

Out  of  the  way;  shut  thy  mouth! 

NANE 

If  thou  wert  not  an  older  man  than  I,  I'd  shut  thy  mouth  with 
my  oar. 

MENEGO 
With  that  face? 

NANE 

Ay,  with  that  face. 

MENEGO 

Out  of  my  way,  go  row  a  lighter. 

NANE 

Out  of  my  way,  go  row  a  slave-galley. 

MENEGO 

Art  thou  from  Caverzere  or  Pelestrina?    Oh,  thou  goose! 

NANE 

I'll  bet  that  I'll  throw  thy  cap  in  the  water. 

MENEGO 
Look  here,  I  must  be  cautious,  because  I  have  the  master  aboard. 

NANE 

I  have  the  master  aboard  as  well,  and  I  wish  to  pass. 

MENEGO 

Dost  thou  think  I  know  thee  not?    Thou  art  but  a  public 
ferryman. 


3i8  GOLDONI 


NANE 

What  of  it!    Whosoever  spends  his  money  is  the  master. 

MENEGO 

Pray,  art  thou  going  to  let  me  pass  ? 

NANE 

Nay,  I  be  going  to  bide  here  till  the  morrow. 

MENEGO 

Neither  shall  I  budge. 

NANE 

I'll  sink  ere  I  back  water. 

MENEGO 
I'll  go  to  pieces  ere  I  back  water. 

NANE 

Back,  thou  low  son  of  the  lowest  deuce  in  the  pack. 

MENEGO 

Back  thyself,  thou  son  of  a  snail ! 

NANE 

I  be  nailed  fast,  thou  canst  see  for  thyself. 

MENEGO 

And  I  drive  my  oar  in  to  remain.  (Sticks  his  oar  into  the 
bottom  of  the  canal.) 

NANE 

What  sayest  thou?  That  I  must  back?  Not  for  ten  sequins. 
(He  leans  over  to  speak  with  the  persons  in  his  gondola.)  If 
you  wish  to  go  ashore,  then  go  ashore,  but  here  I  bide. 

MENEGO 

(Also  speaking  to  those  he  has  in  the  gondola.)  Ay,  but  your 
Excellency,  my  reputation  be  at  stake;  I  wish  not  the  rogue  in  that 
old  hulk  to  get  the  better  of  me. 

NANE 

What  meanest  thou  by  that  old  hulk,  thou  numskull? 

MENEGO 

What  wilt  thou  wager  I  throw  not  thy  rowlock  overboard? 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    319 

NANE 

(To  his  passengers.)  As  I  said,  should  you  wish  to  go  ashore, 
you  may  go  ashore,  since  I  care  not  a  fig.  I  be  going  to  hold  my 
own  with  that  regatta  racer. 

MENEGO 

(To  his  passengers.)  Ay,  your  excellency,  it  be  better  for 
you  to  land.  I  be  not  going  to  back  even  though  by  it  I  lose 
my  bread  and  butter. 

NANE 

See  now!  'Cause  of  thee  my  travellers  be  going  ashore. 
Thou'lt  pay  me  for  it. 

MENEGO 

I  be  the  lad  to  give  thee  satisfaction. 

NANE 

It's  as  easy  to  chuck  thee  in  the  Canal  as  to  laugh. 

MENEGO 

I  be  not  scared  of  thee;  nay,  nor  of  ten  like  thee. 

NANE 

Oh!  Oh! 

MENEGO 

Oh,  thou  donkey! 

NANE 

Oh,   thou   swine! 

MENEGO 

Oh,    thou   bullock!1 

This  is  not  buffoonery,  but  naturalism,  for  when- 
ever two  gondolas  collide  in  a  canaletto,  the  gondo- 
liers of  Venice  still  shower  just  such  abuse  upon  each 
other.  Indeed,  there  is  no  buffoonery  in  The  Re- 
spectable  Girl.  True,  the  conventional  masks,  Panta- 
lone,  Arlecchino,  and  Brighella  are  among  its  dra- 
matis persona,  yet  they  indulge  in  no  lazzl  or  other 

1  Act  II,  Scene  21. 


320  GOLDONI 

tomfoolery,  this  play  being  an  earnest  effort  with  a 
moral  purpose  to  maintain.  As  Ferdinando  Galanti 
points  out,  "It  is  a  model  of  serious  popular  comedy, 
whose  very  title  hints  of  virtue."  2  Finally,  it  is  the 
first  true  flight  of  Goldoni's  genius. 

"I  proposed  a  model  to  my  spectators  for  their  imi- 
tation," he  says  of  it,  and  so  delighted  was  he  with 
Bettina,  this  "virtuous  model,"  and  the  "traits  of  her 
moral  conduct,"  that!  he  presented  the  trials  of  her 
wedded  life  in  The  Good  Wife  (La  Buona  moglie), 
a  comedy  in  which  the  same  characters  reappear. 
Left  to  rock  her  baby  alone,  while  her  weak  husband, 
led  astray  by  his  wild  foster-brother,  squanders  in 
riotous  living  the  thousand  ducats  Pantalone,  his 
father,  has  given  him,  Bettina,  the  good  wife,  is  still 
a  girl  of  the  people,  unused  to  fine  ways  and  servants. 
Simple  and  tender,  she  is  content  to  bide  the  hour 
when  Pasqualino  wvll  leave  his  mistresses  and  return 
to  her  loving  arms,  an  event  that  happens  when  he  is 
brought  to  his  senses  by  seeing  his  foster-brother 
killed  in  a  tavern  brawl.  When  the  Marchese  di 
Ripa  Verde,  who  sought  her  ruin,  is  arrested  for 
debt,  Bettina  offers  his  wife  an  asylum  in  her  house. 
Though  she  conserves  her  character  in  The  Good 
Wife,  this  play  takes  her  from  the  lively  streets  of 
Venice  to  a  staid  bourgeois  parlour  where  she  is  ill  at 
ease;  furthermore,  it  is  a  sequel,  and  like  most  sequels 
lacking  in  the  spontaneity  of  its  original. 

In   Women's   Tittle-Tattle    (I  Pettegolezzi   delle 

2  Carlo  Goldoni  e  Venezia  nel  Secolo  XVIII. 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    321 

donne) ,  Goldoni  again  turns  for  his  inspiration  to  the 
streets  of  Venice,  the  evils  of  the  talebearing  being  his 
topic.  At  the  end  of  the  arduous  season  when  he 
had  boasted  that  he  would  write  sixteen  plays,  he  was 
at  a  loss  for  a  subject  for  the  last  comedy.  "We  were 
at  the  last  Sunday  of  the  Carnival,"  he  says,  "and  I 
had  not  written  a  line  of  the  last  piece  nor  even  im- 
agined the  subject  for  it."  Only  ten  days  remained 
in  which  to  accomplish  the  task  he  had  set  himself. 
His  own  words  shall  tell  the  characteristic  manner  of 
its  fulfilment: 

I  left  my  house  that  day,  and,  seeking  distraction,  went  to 
the  Square  of  Saint  Mark.  I  looked  about  to  see  if  any  of 
the  masks  or  jugglers  might  furnish  me  with  the  subject  of  a 
comedy,  or  some  sort  of  spectacle  for  Shrovetide.  I  met,  un- 
der the  arcade  of  the  clock,  a  man  with  whom  I  was  instantly 
struck,  and  who  provided  me  with  the  subject  of  which  I  was 
in  quest.  This  was  an  old  Armenian,  ill-dressed,  very  dirty, 
and  with  a  long  beard,  who  went  about  the  streets  of  Venice 
selling  the  dried  fruits  of  his  country,  which  he  called  Abagigi. 
This  man,  who  was  to  be  seen  everywhere,  and  whom  I  had 
myself  frequently  met,  was  so  well  known  and  so  much  de- 
spised, that  when  any  one  wished  to  tease  a  girl  seeking  a  hus- 
band, he  proposed  to  her  Abagigi.  Nothing  more  was  neces- 
sary to  send  me  home  satisfied.  I  entered  my  house,  shut 
myself  up  in  my  closet,  and  began  a  popular  comedy,  which  I 
called  /  Pettegolezzi. 

Although  written  in  dialect,  Women's  Tittle-Tattle 
does  not  picture  the  streets  of  Venice  so  truly  as  The 
Respectable  Girl;  moreover,  the  story  it  relates  of  a 
lover  who  breaks  his  troth  because  a  spiteful  woman 
sets  evil  tongues  a-wagging,  is  a  theatric  story  more 


322  GOLDONI 

fitting  the  Improvised  Comedy  Goldoni  was  seeking 
to  supplant  than  the  National  Comedy  he  was  en- 
deavouring to  create.  Its  humour,  however,  is  at 
moments  delicious,  the  scenes  in  which  gossip  flies 
from  lip  to  lip  being  as  sparkling  as  any  Goldoni  has 
written ;  yet  he  makes  no  more  than  what  he  terms 
"the  knot  of  the  piece"  of  Abagigi  the  Armenian  ped- 
lar. Nevertheless  it  contains  naturalistic  sketches, 
quite  worthy  its  author,  such  as  the  following  por- 
trayal of  Merlino,  a  street-Arab  from  Naples,  whom 
Gate,  a  laundress,  tries  to  induce  to  carry  her  basket: 

GATE 

Come,  lad,  bear  these  clothes.     Prithee  make  haste. 

MERLINO 

Oh,  how  I  hate  this  work! 

GATE 

In  this  land  if  thou  wouldst  eat  thou  must  work. 

MERLINO 

Rather  would  I  live  by  my  wits,  or  beg. 

GATE 

In  truth,  if  thou  shouldst  ask  charity,  all  will  chase  thee 
away.  Go  to  work,  they'll  say,  thou  rascal,  go  to  work. 

MERLINO 

Oh,  I  know  my  calling.  Prithee.  Alms  for  a  poor  man 
who  is  maimed.  (Acts  the  one-armed  man.)  Be  charitable 
to  a  poor  cripple.  (Acts  the  cripple.)  Charity  for  a  poor  blind 
man.  (Acts  the  blind  man.)  Have  pity  on  a  poor  labourer,  who 
fell  from  a  scaffold,  and  can  work  no  more.  (Moves  about  on 
his  hind-quarters  and  his  hands.) 

GATE 

I  say,  but  thou  art  a  flower  of  virtue.  From  what  land  art 
thou? 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    323 

MERLINO 

I  be  a  most  unworthy  Neapolitan  beggar. 

GATE 

(Aside.)  Oh,  I  be  n't  going  to  let  that  lad  carry  my  bas- 
ket. He  be  a  little  rogue  who  may  rob  me.  (To  Merlino.) 
Here's  a  penny.  Now  go  about  thy  business. 

MERLINO 
Dost  wish  me  no  longer? 

GATE 

Nay,  I  be  wishing  nothing  more. 

MERLINO 

Cursed  be  she  who  mothered  thee;  mayest  thou  grow  as  many 
ulcers  as  there  be  stitches  in  the  clothes  of  this  basket!  Cursed  be 
thy  father,  thy  mother,  and  all  thy  generation! 

GATE 

Say  what  thou  wilt.  It's  all  right,  since  I  don't  understand 
thy  dialect.3 

MERLINO 

Look,  now,  look  now,  someone's  wishing  thee. 

GATE 

What? 

MERLINO 

Mayst  thou  fall  dead  at  once.     Someone's  called  thee. 

GATE 
Who's   called   me? 

MERLINO 

A  lady.     Yonder,  yonder,   a  lady. 

GATE 

Where?  I  see  her  not.  Be  that  she?  (She  turns  around, 
and  Merlino  steals  a  shirt.) 

MERLINO 

Creature  of   misery! 

3  Merlino  speaks  Neapolitan  in  the  original. 


324  GOLDONI 

GATE 

What  the  devil  sayest  thou,  thou  accursed  little  parrot? 

MERLINO 

Mayst  thou  be  killed! 

GATE 

What  didst  thou  say? 

MERLINO 

Didst  thou  not  understand  me? 

CATE 
Nay,  I  did  not  understand. 

MERLINO 

If  thou  didst  not  understand,  then  art  thou 
Daughter  of  a  cuckold's  mate. 
Heaven  send  thee  with  its  hate 
Boils  a  thousand  as  thy  fate! 

(Exit  singing  and  dancing.)  4 

In  The  Jealous  Women  (Le  Donne  gelose)  Gol- 
doni  mounts  the  social  ladder  a  rung  or  two,  the  lower 
bourgeoisie, — a  grade  of  society  prosperous,  yet  still 
of  the  people, — being  here  portrayed.  He  depicts, 
too,  the  Latin  idolatry  of  the  Goddess  of  Chance, 
Siora  Lucrezia,  a  confectioner's  widow,  who  is  the 
principal  character  of  this  comedy,  being  a  profes- 
sional sibyl  who  pretends  to  foretell  the  lucky  num- 
bers of  the  draw  by  omens  and  dreams.  She  is 
shrewd,  however,  for  she  is  a  professional  usurer,  as 
well,  who  lends  money  to  her  unlucky  clients,  and 
rents  the  garments  they  leave  in  pawn  to  her  as  cos- 
tumes for  the  Carnival,  a  multiplicity  of  vocations 
that  entangles  her  with  the  jealous  women  who  give 

*Act  I,  Scene  5. 


THE  FORTUNE-TELLER 


National   Gallery,   London 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    325 

the  play  its  name,  the  clothes  being  recognized,  and 
the  husbands  who  patronize  her  being  tracked  to  her 
house  by  their  wives.  Taunted  by  these  jealous 
women  with  being  the  drab  who  has  debauched  their 
lords,  Lucrezia  draws  a  stiletto.  "If  I  carry  it,"  she 
says,  as  her  enemies  recoil,  "I  do  not  carry  it  to  do 
harm  to  any  one ;  but  neither  you  nor  any  one  shall 
trample  on  me,  and  by  Heaven,  if  you  be  not  careful, 
I  will  show  you  who  I  am."  Yet  she  is  not  forced 
to  commit  murder  in  defence  of  her  honour;  since  on 
winning  the  first  prize  in  the  lottery,  she  renounces 
her  multifarious  calling,  her  male  clients  returning 
to  the  bosoms  of  their  respective  families.  Its  dra- 
matic material  being  of  so  diaphanous  a  texture,  The 
Jealous  Women  cannot  be  numbered  among  Gol- 
doni's  best  comedies ;  yet  in  characterization  it  is  not 
deficient,  Lucrezia,  the  heroine,  being  a  naturalistic 
study  of  a  woman  of  the  people,  shrewd,  supersti- 
tious, and  impetuous,  yet  so  tenacious  of  her  fair  name 
as  to  be  ready  to  shed  blood  for  its  sake. 

Another  Venetian  comedy  in  which  Goldoni  de- 
picts the  lower  bourgeoisie  is  The  Good  Mother  (La 
Buona  madre] ,  a  play  in  which  he  is  even  less  dra- 
matic, because  too  insistently  moral,  it  being,  as  he 
acknowledges,  "a  decent  play  that  failed  decently." 
As  Signor  Galanti  says  pithily,  "Once  more  the  public 
gave  the  author  to  understand  that  ethics  on  the  stage 
is  a  diet  that  pleases  little."  5 

Although  Goldoni  failed  in  The  Jealous  Women 

5  Op.  cit. 


326  GOLDONI 

and  The  Good  Mother  to  depict  tradesfolk  and  their 
families  with  unerring  skill,  he  made  full  amends  in 
The  Boors  (I  Rusteghi)  a  masterpiece  in  which  he 
portrays  the  intolerance  of  the  Venetian  middle  class, 
a  hide-bound  order,  puritanical,  almost,  in  its  tradi- 
tions. 

The  Domestic  Tyrants,  however,  is  a  more  fitting 
title  than  the  one  he  has  chosen  for  this  consummate 
piece  of  stage  naturalism,  his  boors  being  intractable 
family  autocrats,  whose  words  spell  law  in  their  re- 
spective households.  Three  of  these  tyrants  of  the 
hearth — Lunardo,  Simon,  and  Canciano — have 
wives,  Maurizio,  the  fourth,  being  a  widower  with 
an  only  son  whom  he  has  agreed  to  marry  to  Lu- 
nardo's  daughter  by  a  former  bed.  Lunardo,  the 
most  boorish  of  them,  rules  his  family  with  a  hand  so 
high  that  no  guests,  except  of  his  choosing,  cross  his 
threshold.  To  his  wife  he  denies  even  the  single  day 
of  carnival  gaiety  commonly  allowed  to  women  of 
her  order,  and  when  he  barters  his  daughter's  hand, 
he  refuses  to  disclose  the  name  of  the  husband  he  has 
chosen  for  her,  much  less  grant  her  a  sight  of  him. 
His  masculine  selfishness  is  admirably  characterized 
when  he  thus  expresses  his  contempt  for  "women- 
folk" to  his  crony  Maurizio,  after  the  marriage  of 
their  children  has  been  arranged  by  them. 

LUNARDO 

They  say  we  know  not  how  to  enjoy  ourselves. 

MAURIZIO 

Poor  creatures!     Are  they  able  to  see  into  our  hearts?     Da 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    327 

they  suppose  there  is  no  other  society  but  theirs?  Ah,  my 
friend,  it  is  a  real  joy  to  be  able  to  say  I  have  enough ;  that  I  want 
for  nothing,  and  that  if  needs  be  I  can  lay  my  hands  on  a  hun- 
dred sequins. 

LUNARDO 

Ay,  sir,  and  live  well,  on  fat  capon,  tender  chickens,  and  a 
fine  loin  of  veal. 

MAURIZIO 
And  all  good  and  cheap  because  you  pay  as  you  go. 

LUNARDO 

And  all  in  your  own  house  without  squabble  or  vexation. 

MAURIZIO 
And  without  any  one  to  peck  at  you. 

LUNARDO 

And  without  any  one  knowing  your  affairs. 

MAURIZIO 
And  our  own  masters. 

LUNARDO 

And  not  ruled  by  our  wives. 

MAURIZIO 

And  our  children  behaving  like  children! 

LUNARDO 

That  is  the  way  my  daughter  is  reared. 

MAURIZIO 
My  son  is  a  jewel,  too;  no  danger  of  his  wasting  a  farthing. 

LUNARDO 

My  daughter  knows  how  to  do  everything.  At  home  she 
has  had  to  do  everything,  even  to  washing  the  dishes. 

MAURIZIO 

And  because  I  do  not  wish  my  son  to  spoon  with  the  house- 
maids, I  have  brought  him  up  to  darn  his  socks  and  patch  his 
own  breeches. 

LUNARDO 
Good!     (Laughing.) 


328  GOLDONI 

MAURIZIO 

Yes,    indeed. 

LUNARDO 

Come,   we'll   arrange   this   marriage  quickly. 

MAURIZIO 
Whenever  you  wish,  my  friend. 

LUNARDO 

I  expect  you  to  sup  with  me  to-night.  You  know  I  told  you 
so.  Four  sweetbreads.  We'll  prove  their  merits!  Ah,  but 
how  fat  they  are ! 

MAURIZIO 

We'll  eat  them. 

LUNARDO 

And  have  a  merry  time. 

MAURIZIO 

And  be  happy. 

LUNARDO 

And   then   they'll  call  us  brutes. 

MAURIZIO 

Pooh! 

LUNARDO 

The  hussies.6 

These  selfish  old  codgers  are  the  bone  and  sinew 
of  commercial  Venice.  Their  faces  are  well  known 
on  the  Rialto;  their  merchantmen  ply  between  the 
Adriatic  and  the  Mediterranean,  ay,  even  as  far  as 
Sinope  and  Trebizond ;  yet  their  hearts  are  hard  and 
cold  as  the  ducats  in  their  strong  boxes,  their  minds 
as  narrow  as  the  streets  they  tread.  Witness  this 
scene  between  Lunardo  and  Simon,  another  of  these 
domestic  tyrants  Goldoni  has  painted  with  a  surpass- 
ing touch : 

6  Act  I,  Scene  5. 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    329 

SIMON 

You  are  right,  my  old  friend,  there  are  no  young  men  now 
such  as  there  were  in  our  day.  You  remember  that  we  did  no 
more  and  no  less  than  our  fathers  wished. 

LUNARDO 

I  had  two  married  sisters.  I  don't  believe  I  saw  them  ten 
times  in  my  whole  life. 

SIMON 

I  hardly  ever  spoke  even  to  mother. 

LUNARDO 

Even  to  this  day  I  scarcely  know  what  an  opera  or  a  comedy 
is  like. 

SIMON 

They  took  me  to  the  opera  by  force,  one  evening,  and  I  dozed 
throughout  it. 

LUNARDO 

When  I  was  a  stripling,  my  father  said  unto  me:  "Wouldst 
thou  rather  see  the  magic-lantern,  or  have  twopence?"  I  chose 
the  twopence. 

SIMON 

And  I !  To  save  my  tips  was  my  habit ;  and  from  the  farthings 
I  filched,  I  acquired  a  hundred  ducats  which  I  invested  at  four 
per  cent.  Thus  I  have  four  ducats  more  of  interest,  and  when 
I  draw  those  four  ducats  it  gives  me  a  joy  so  great  that  I  can- 
not describe  it;  not  because  I  am  greedy  for  those  four  ducats, 
but  because  I  may  say  to  myself,  all  this  I  earned  when  I  was 
a  lad. 

LUNARDO 

Show  me  to-day  one  who  would  do  thus;  they  throw  money 
away,  so  to  speak,  by  shovelfuls. 

SIMON 

I  would  not  mind  the  money  they  throw  away,  but  they 
throw  themselves  away  in  a  hundred  ways. 

LUNARDO 

And  the  cause  of  it  all  is  liberty. 


330  GOLDONI 

SIMON 

Ay,  sir:  so  soon  as  they  know  how  to  put  on  their  breeches 
they  begin  to  stray. 

LUNARDO 
And  know  you  who  teaches  them?    Their  mothers! 

SIMON 

Say  no  more.  I  have  heard  things  that  make  my  hair  stand 
on  end. 

LUNARDO 

Ay,  sir,  and  this  is  what  they  say:  "Poor  little  lad,  let  him 
regale  himself.  Poor  little  thing!  Would  you  have  him  in 
the  dumps?"  If  visitors  come  they  call  to  him,  "Come  here, 
my  child.  His  complexion,  Madam  Lucrezia,  does  it  not  make 
you  wish  to  kiss  him?  If  you  but  knew  how  astute  he  is. 
Sing  thy  little  song,  dear;  recite  thy  piece  of  Trufaldino's.  I 
should  not  say  it,  yet  can  he  do  anything — dance,  play  at  cards, 
and  write  sonnets.  Do  you  know,  he  is  in  love.  He  says  he 
wishes  to  get  married.  He  is  somewhat  pert.  Yet  all  in  good 
time,  he  is  but  a  child,  some  day  he  will  sensible  be.  Darling, 
come  here,  joy  of  my  life !  Give  Madam  Lucrezia  a  kiss."  Bah ! 
a  shame,  a  disgrace !  The  senseless  women ! 7 

This  boor  of  Venice  is  thoroughly  respected  in  the 
marts  of  trade,  but  by  his  own  hearthstone  he  is  the 
hectoring  tyrant  who  thus  admonishes  Margarita,  his 
wife,  and  Lucietta,  his  daughter,  when  he  catches 
them  decked  out  in  finery : 

LUNARDO 

(To  Margarita.')  What  means  this,  madam?  Are  you  going 
to  the  ball? 

MARGARITA 

There  now,  just  look  at  him.  I  dress  myself  up  once  in  the 
year,  and  he  grumbles.  Are  you  afraid  that  you  are  coming  to 
ruin? 

7  Act  II,  Scene  5. 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    331 

LUNARDO 

It  matters  not  to  me,  let  me  tell  you,  if  you  should  wear  out 
even  one  frock  a  week.  Thank  Heaven,  I  am  not  a  man  who 
counts  pennies.  So  much  as  a  hundred  ducats  may  I  spend;  yet 
not  on  such  tomfoolery.  What  would  you  have  these  gentlemen 
who  are  coming  to  my  house  say?  That  you  are  a  dressed-up 
manikin.  No  laughing-stock  do  I  wish  to  be. 

LUCIETTA 

(Aside.)     Really  glad  am  I  that  he  scolds  her. 

MARGARITA 

What  think  you  the  other  women  will  wear?  One  shoe  and 
one  slipper? 

LUNARDO 

They  may  wear  what  pleases  them.  Such  mincing  airs  have 
not  been  seen  in  my  house,  and  you  shall  not  begin  them  now,  and 
you  shall  not  make  me  a  butt  for  ridicule.  Do  you  understand  ?  8 

This  tyrant  meets  his  match,  however,  in  a  clever 
woman,  for  Canciano,  one  of  his  bosom-friends,  has  a 
wife,  by  name  Felice,  who  not  only  manages  to  lead 
her  own  grumbling  husband  by  the  nose,  but  Lu- 
nardo  also,  she  being  endowed  with  common  sense  as 
well  as  with  a  will  that  knows  its  way.  Getting  wind 
of  the  proposed  marriage  between  Maurizio's  son 
and  Lunardo's  daughter,  Felice  dresses  the  young 
man  up  in  a  woman's  domino,  and  with  Count  Ric- 
cardo,  her  own  cicisbeo,  as  his  escort,  introduces  him 
within  the  austere  precincts  of  Lunardo's  dwelling, 
where  he  falls  in  love  with  Lucietta,  his  betrothed, 
whom  hitherto  he  had  neither  seen  nor  known.  Be- 
ing caught  in  their  clandestine  love-making  by  their 
respective  fathers,  Filipeto  is  ordered  home,  and  Lu- 

8  Act  II,  Scene  3. 


332  GOLDONI 

cietta  locked  in  her  room;  whereupon  Lunardo  and 
his  cronies  express  their  views  of  the  scandal  in  this 
despotic,  albeit  masculine  way: 

LUNARDO 

It  is  a  question  of  honour ;  it  is  a  question,  to  come  to  the  point, 
of  my  family's  reputation.  A  man  of  my  standing!  What  will 
you  say  of  me  ?  What  will  you  say  of  Lunardo  Crozzola  ? 

SIMON 

Calm  yourself,  my  dear  man.  It  is  not  your  fault.  The 
women  are  to  blame.  Punish  them,  and  all  the  world  will  ap- 
plaud you. 

CANCIANO 

Ay,  verily,  we  must  make  an  example  of  them.  We  must 
humble  the  pride  of  those  arrogant  women,  and  teach  men  how 
to  punish  them. 

SIMON 

Let  them  call  us  boors. 

CANCIANO 

Let  them  call  us  savages. 

LUNARDO 

My  spouse  is  at  the  bottom  of  it  all. 

SIMON 

Punish  her. 

LUNARDO 

It  is  that  rattlepate  who  tags  after  her. 

CANCIANO 

Humble  her. 

LUNARDO 

(To  Canciano.)     And  your  spouse  is  a  good  third. 

CANCIANO 

I  will  punish  her. 

LUNARDO 

(To  Simon.)     And  yours  is  also  in  the  pack. 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    333 

SIMON 

She,  too,  shall  pay  for  it. 

LUNARDO 

My  dear  friends,  let  us  talk  it  over;  let  us  consult  together. 
The  way  things  are  now,  what  shall  we  do  with  them?  As 
for  the  girl,  that  is  easy;  I  have  thought  about  her,  and  have  made 
up  my  mind.  In  the  first  place,  no  more  question  of  matrimony. 
She  shall  talk  no  more  about  getting  married.  I  will  send  her 
to  be  locked  up  in  some  place,  far  from  the  world,  between  four 
walls,  and  that's  the  end  of  her.9  But  how  are  we  to  chastise  our 
wives?  Tell  me  your  opinion. 

CANCIANO 

To  confess  the  truth,  I  am  in  considerable  doubt. 

SIMON 

We  might  clap  them,  too,  into  a  retreat  between  four  walls, 
and  thus  get  out  of  the  difficulty! 

LUNARDO 

That,  let  me  tell  you,  would  be  a  punishment  for  us  rather 
than  for  them.  We  should  be  compelled  to  expend  money,  pay 
their  keep,  send  them  frocks  that  are  at  least  neat,  and  howsoever 
much  of  a  retreat  it  might  be,  there  would  always  be  more  diver- 
sion and  more  liberty  there  than  in  our  homes.  Do  I  present  it 
distinctly  ? 

SIMON 

You  could  not  present  it  more  distinctly,  especially  as  regards 
you  and  me  who  do  not  give  them  a  loose  rein,  as  does  my  friend 
Canciano. 

CANCIANO 

What  would  you  have  me  say?  That  you  are  right?  We 
might  keep  them  in  the  house  locked  up  in  a  room ;  take  them  with 
us  now  and  then  to  some  entertainment ;  then  lock  them  up  again, 
and  not  let  them  see  any  one,  or  talk  to  any  one. 

9  Goldoni  was  forbidden  by  the  laws  of  Venice  to  use  the  word 
convent. 


334  GOLDONI 

SIMON 

Lock  the  women  up  without  letting  them  talk  to  any  one !  That 
is  a  punishment  that  would  kill  them  in  less  than  three  days. 

CANCIANO 

So  much  the  better. 

LUNARDO 

But  who  is  the  man  that  wishes  to  play  the  jailer?  And  more- 
over, if  her  kinsfolk  should  discover  it,  there  would  be  the  devil 
to  pay.  They  would  have  half  the  world  after  you.  They  would 
make  you  release  her,  and  furthermore,  they  would  call  you  a 
bear,  a  ruffian,  a  dog. 

SIMON 

And  when  you  have  yielded  either  through  love  or  duty,  they 
would  get  the  upper  hand,  and  you  would  no  longer  be  able  to  lift 
your  voice. 

CANCIANO 

Precisely  what  my  spouse  has  done  with  me. 

LUNARDO 

The  right  method,  to  tell  the  truth,  would  be  to  use  a  stick. 

SIMON 

Ay,  upon  my  word;  and  let  the  world  talk. 

CANCIANO 

But — if  they  rebel  against  us? 

SIMON 

That  might  happen,  you  know. 

CANCIANO 

I  know  whereof  I  speak. 

LUNARDO 

In  that  case  we  should  be  in  a  pretty  bad  pickle. 

SIMON 

Besides,  don't  you  know  there  are  men  who  beat  their  wives. 
But  do  you  imagine  that  they  can  subdue  them  in  that  way? 
Zounds!  They  are  worse  than  ever;  they  act  out  of  spite.  Un- 
less you  kill  them,  there  is  no  remedy. 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    335 

LUNARDO 

Kill  them!     That's  going  too  far. 

CANCIANO 

You  are  right ;  since  after  all,  do  what  you  will,  you  cannot  do 
without  women. 

SIMON 

Yet  would  it  not  be  a  joy  to  have  a  good,  quiet,  obedient  spouse? 
Would  it  not  be  a  comfort? 

LUNARDO 

Once  I  knew  what  it  was  like.  My  first,  poor  dear,  was*a  lamb. 
My  present  is  a  basilisk. 

CANCIANO 

And  mine!     She  must  have  everything  her  own  way. 

SIMON 
And  I  protest,  raise  a  tumult,  and  accomplish  naught. 

LUNARDO 

All  that  is  vexing;  but  still  it  may  be  borne.  But  in  my  pre- 
sent predicament,  to  tell  the  truth,  much  is  at  stake.  I  would  like 
to  decide,  yet  do  not  know  what  should  be  done. 

SIMON 

Despatch  her  to  her  kinsfolk. 

LUNARDO 

Ay,  and  get  myself  laughed  at! 

CANCIANO 

Send  her  away;  force  her  to  remain  in  the  country. 

LUNARDO 

Still  worse!  She  would  squander  my  income  in  less  than  a 
week. 

SIMON 

Have  her  reasoned  with;  find  somebody  who  can  bring  her  to 
her  senses. 

LUNARDO 

Bah!     She  will  listen  to  no  one. 


336  GOLDONI 

CANCIANO 

Try  putting  her  wardrobe,  her  jewels,  under  lock  and  key;  keep 
her  down;  humiliate  her. 

LUNARDO 

That  I  have  tried;  yet  she  acts  worse  than  ever. 

SIMON 

I  understand;  this  is  the  way  to  do,  my  friend. 

LUNARDO 
How? 

SIMON 

Enjoy  her  as  she  is. 

CANCIANO 
I,  too,  have  thought  that  to  be  the  only  remedy. 

LUNARDO 

Yes,  I  saw  that  some  time  ago.  I  saw,  too,  that,  being  what 
she  is,  it's  the  only  way.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  stom- 
ach her,  yet  what  she  had  done  to  me  now  is  too  much.  Ruin 
a  daughter  in  such  a  manner.  Permit  a  lover  to  enter  the 
house!  True,  I  had  destined  him  to  be  her  lord,  yet,  to  tell  the 
truth,  what  knew  she  of  my  intentions?  Some  inkling  did  I  give 
her  regarding  the  disposal  of  her  hand,  yet  was  it  not  possible 
that  I  should  change  my  mind  ?  Was  it  not  possible  that  we  might 
not  come  to  an  agreement?  Might  it  not  have  been  deferred  for 
months,  ay,  even  years?  And  now  she  introduces  him  into  my 
house! — masked! — clandestinely!  Arranges  for  them  to  see  each 
other! — converse  together!  A  daughter  of  mine! — an  unsoiled 
dove! — I  cannot  control  myself.  I  shall  humble  her,  I  tell  you. 
I  should  punish  her,  even  if  I  felt  certain  it  meant  sudden  ruin. 

SIMON 

Mistress  Felice  is  at  the  bottom  of  it. 

LUNARDO 

(To  Canciano.)  Ay,  that  daft  wife  of  yours  is  at  the  bottom 
of  it. 

CANCIANO 

You  are  right.     My  wife  shall  pay  for  it.10 
10  Act  III,  Scene  i. 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    337 

While  these  surly  husbands  are  thus  giving  vent 
to  their  intolerant  sentiments  they  are  confronted 
by  Felice,  who  confounds  them  with  outspoken  truth 
about  their  contumacy.  So  pitilessly  does  she  lash 
them  with  her  woman's  tongue  that  Lunardo,  brought 
to  a  realization  of  his  churlishness,  consents  to  the 
marriage  of  his  daughter  to  Filipeto.  The  following 
shaft  aimed  by  Felice  at  Lunardo  and  his  cronies 
bears  a  moral  which  Goldoni  says  "is  not  extremely 
needed,  there  being  scarcely  any  adorers  of  the  an- 
cient simplicity,"  yet  this  is  manifestly  a  sop  to  the 
feelings  of  the  boors  his  satire  had  flayed,  their  type 
being  perennial : 

Don't  you  see?  This  boorishness,  this  uncouthness  that  sur- 
rounds you,  is  the  cause  of  all  the  turbulance  this  day  has  brought 
forth,  and  it  is  going  to  make  you — all  three  of  you — do  you  hear? 
I  am  speaking  to  all  three  of  you ! — it  is  going  to  make  you  rabid, 
hateful,  discontented,  and  universally  ridiculed.  Be  a  little  more 
civil,  tractable,  humane.  Examine  the  actions  of  your  wives,  and 
so  long  as  they  are  honest,  yield  a  little,  endure  a  little.  ...  As 
for  the  finery,  so  long  as  they  do  not  run  after  every  fashion,  so 
long  as  the  family  is  not  brought  to  ruin,  neatness  is  both  fitting 
and  becoming.  In  brief,  if  you  wish  to  live  quietly,  if  you  wish 
to  be  on  good  terms  with  your  wives,  act  like  men,  not  like  sav- 
ages; rule,  but  do  not  tyrannize,  and  love  if  you  would  be  loved. 

"In  The  Boors  there  is  nothing  false,"  as  Signer 
Molmenti  so  aptly  puts  it;  n  for,  slight  though  it  is  in 
dramatic  texture,  it  is  a  masterpiece  of  naturalism 
wherein  is  depicted  supremely  well  the  strait- 
laced  burgher  of  Venice  with  a  mind  as  hermetically 

11  Carlo  Goldoni. 


338  GOLDONI 

closed  to  the  outside  world  as  the  house  in  which  he 
immures  his  wife  and  daughter,  a  heart  as  unyield- 
ing as  the  hand  with  which  he  drives  his  hard  bar- 
gains. The  only  things  he  cares  a  whit  to  know 
are  the  prices  current  upon  the  Rialto,  or  the  rates 
of  exchange.  His  name  is  not  inscribed  in  the 
Golden  Book  of  Patricians ;  yet  in  his  strong-box  no 
mean  proportion  of  the  gold  of  Venice  is  locked 
against  the  hapless  day  when  he,  being  dead  and  gone, 
his  daughter,  wedded  to  the  son  of  his  crony,  will 
spend  a  hundred  thousand  lire  of  his  parings  for  some 
diamond  shoe-buckles  with  which  to  dazzle  a  scented 
cicisbeo.  He  is  a  burgher  of  the  old  school,  a  mer- 
chant whose  sharpness  and  cupidity  have  helped  to 
amass  the  wealth  of  Venice  and  make  her  the  envied 
and  hated  of  the  world,  and  Goldoni  has  portrayed 
him  with  a  touch  at  once  ruthless  and  sure. 

Following  the  production  of  The  Boors,  Gas- 
paro  Gozzi,  the  brother  of  Goldoni's  bitter  rival, 
Carlo  Gozzi,  published  in  the  Gazzetta  Veneta  12  an 
appreciative  yet  critical  review  of  this,  perhaps  the 
most  naturalistic  of  all  Goldoni's  plays :  "All  the  in- 
cidents in  this  comedy  are  arranged,"  he  says,  "with 
so  exquisite  a  sense  of  proportion,  and  all  are  brought 
to  view  and  set  in  motion  so  artistically,  that  we  may 
say: 

"Here  men  erect  or  bent,  men  quick  or  slow, 

In  views  dissolving,  pass  beneath  our  gaze. 
Of  bodies  long  or  short,  we  see  each  phase 

Move  'neath  the  ray,  whose  penetrating  glow 

12  Number  V. 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    339 

Illuminates,  betimes,  the  shadowy  cloak 
Men  craftily  unto  their  aid  invoke. 

"Precisely  as  a  sunbeam,"  adds  Gozzi,  "penetrating 
through  a  window  chink  that  seemed  both  void  and 
empty,  displays  to  you  a  lengthening  streak  of  mi- 
nute particles  in  perpetual  motion,  so  does  the  genius 
of  the  author  illumine  and  make  visible  a  thousand 
minute  circumstances  which  you  could  not  have  im- 
agined, much  less  have  seen."  Turning  from  this 
poetical  effusiveness  to  discriminating  prose,  this  con- 
temporary critic  declares  that  "the  situations  bud  and 
bloom  readily  of  their  own  accord,"  in  this  comedy, 
and  that  "wit  and  homely  speech  sparkle  continually." 
Yet  Gozzi's  criticism,  so  generous  for  a  contempo- 
rary, overlooked  one  penetrating  element  of  Gol- 
doni's  comedy  that  we  of  to-day  may  appreciate  more 
readily  than  he:  namely,  the  conflict  between  the  old, 
conservative  traditions  of  Venice,  and  the  modern 
luxury  that  was  corrupting  her — a  presage  as  it  were 
of  her  downfall.  Gozzi  failed,  also,  in  doing  jus- 
tice to  the  admirable  characterization  of  Lunardo, 
Goldoni's  four  boors  being  not  as  he  declared  "di- 
vers aspects  of  the  same  character,"  but  rather  di- 
verse characters  made  outwardly  similar  by  the  same 
traditions.  Among  them,  Lunardo,  the  most  ob- 
stinate, stands  forth  as  a  portrayal  rivalled  in  modern 
comedy  only  by  a  few  of  Moliere's  immortal  charac- 
ters.13 

13  /  Quattro  rusteghi,  an  opera  taken  from  Goldoni's  play  (book  by 
Giuseppe  Pizzolato,  music  by  Ermanno  Wolf -Ferrari),  was  produced 
at  Munich  in  1906. 


340  GOLDONI 

Another  dialect  comedy  in  which  Goldoni  treats 
domestic  tyranny  is  Master  Theodore  the  Grumbler; 
or,  The  Disagreeable  Old  Man  (Sior  Todero  Bron- 
talon  o  II  vecchio  fastidioso),  a  play  whose  cantan- 
kerous protagonist  is  a  boor  without  the  humanity  of 
Lunardo,  a  bear  without  the  beneficence  of  Ge- 
ronte ; 14  for  although  he  is  drawn  from  life,  as  Gol- 
doni declares,  Master  Theodore  is  a  very  theatrical 
personage,  who  storms  and  growls,  and  even  locks  up 
the  coffee  and  sugar  to  keep  them  out  of  the  reach  of 
his  daughter-in-law.  In  brief,  he  is  a  person  quite 
too  theatrically  disagreeable  to  be  of  lasting  interest. 

"There  was  once  an  old  man  in  Venice  called 
Theodore,"  Goldoni  tells  us,  "the  most  rude,  ill-na- 
tured and  unpleasant  man  in  the  world,  and  he  left 
behind  him  so  consummate  a  reputation  that  every 
grumbler  in  Venice  is  called  Theodore  the  Grum- 
bler." "I  knew  one  of  those  ill-natured  old  men," 
he  goes  on  to  say,  "and  I  wished  to  avenge  his  daugh- 
ter-in-law, a  worthy  woman  whom  I  saw  frequently; 
so  I  drew  in  the  same  picture  the  portraits  of  her 
husband  and  her  father-in-law."  The  lady  was  in  the 
secret,  and  when  the  play  was  given,  the  irascible 
father  and  his  meek  son  were  both  recognized,  so 
they  left  the  theatre,  "the  one  furious,  the  other  hu- 
miliated." And  the  play  proved  such  a  success  that 
its  run  continued  until  the  close  of  the  season.  In 
spite  of  the  fact  that  the  qualities  which  are  the  charm 
of  Goldoni  seem  almost  entirely  lacking  in  this  play, 

14  The  title  role  of  Le  Bourru  bienfalsant. 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    341 

"it  is  among  the  most  popular  of  our  poet's  come- 
dies," Signor  Galanti  assures  us,  though  why  he  draws 
this  conclusion  it  is  difficult  to  divine.  Indeed,  it  is 
easier  to  share  with  Signor  Molmenti  a  "certain  re- 
pugnance" he  feels  for  Sior  Todero.15 

The  merits  of  The  New  House  (La  Casa  nova) 
need  excite,  however,  no  such  difference  of  opinion, 
this  comedy  presenting  as  natural  a  picture  of  life  as 
any  Goldoni  has  drawn.  Indeed,  were  it  not  lacking 
in  character  studies  as  humorous  as  Lunardo  and 
his  cronies,  it  would  take  rank  as  Goldoni's  Venetian 
masterpiece,  its  plot,  being  more  deftly  woven  than 
that  of  The  Boors,  and  the  lesson  it  teaches  farther 
reaching.  In  The  Boors  the  author  pictures  fathers 
as  stern  as  those  of  New  England  in  the  days  of  its 
most  rigorous  puritanism,  and  makes  it  reasonable 
to  expect  that  when  these  austere  conservatives  are 
dead  and  gone  the  ducats  in  their  strong-boxes  will 
be  scattered  far  and  wide  by  children  too  narrowly 
reared  to  withstand  the  temptation  of  a  city  so  cosmo- 
politan as  Venice.  In  The  New  House  Goldoni  por- 
trays the  weak  son  of  just  such  a  Puritan  as  Lunardo, 
squandering  his  moderate  inheritance  to  satisfy  the 
caprices  of  the  domineering  little  upstart  he  has  mar- 
ried. Being  a  poor  girl  of  common  breeding,  Ce- 
cilia, the  wife,  has  had  her  head  turned  completely 
by  what  she  believes  is  a  rich  marriage,  Anzoletto, 
her  husband,  in  order  to  win  her  love,  having  made  an 
ostentatious  show  of  wealth  he  does  not  possess. 

15  Carlo  Goldoni. 


342  GOLDONI 

The  New  House,  which  gives  the  comedy  its  name, 
is  a  sumptuous  dwelling  Anzoletto  has  leased  to  re- 
ceive his  bride,  though  he  is  without  the  means  to 
pay  either  the  rent  or  the  artisans  he  has  employed 
to  renovate  it.  When  the  curtain  rises  a  group  of 
upholsterers,  painters,  and  carpenters,  working  as 
inertly  as  modern  trades-unionists,  grumble  about 
their  unpaid  wages;  meanwhile  Lucietta,  a  gossipy 
housemaid,  tears  to  shreds  for  their  benefit  the  char- 
acter of  her  new  mistress,  "an  overweening  snob," 
as  she  calls  her,  who  having  wasted  a  fortune  upon 
"household  goods,  wages,  and  new  furniture,"  is 
"still  dissatisfied."  With  a  sister  to  marry  and  a  for- 
tune squandered,  her  uxorious  young  master  is  "re- 
duced to  extremities,"  she  avers,  the  rent  of  the  new 
house  being  unpaid,  as  well  as  the  six  months'  wages 
due  herself.  This  state  of  affairs  causes  the  spokes- 
man of  the  workers  to  threaten  a  strike,  until  Anzo- 
letto, the  master  of  the  house,  cajoles  him  into  wait- 
ing till  the  morrow  for  the  money  without  which,  in 
this  artisan's  words,  "even  the  blind  will  not  sing." 

Menechina,  the  unmarried  sister,  whose  dowry 
Anzoletto  has  dissipated  to  gratify  his  wife's  whims, 
is  enamoured  of  Lorenzino,  the  young  cousin  of 
Checca,  a  married  woman  who  dwells  on  the  floor 
above,  the  word  casa  of  this  comedy's  title  signifying 
"apartment"  rather  than  "house"  in  the  literal  sense. 
Having  lost  her  heart  to  Lorenzino  while  watching 
him  pace  back  and  forth  beneath  her  window,  Me- 
nechina's  ill  will  toward  her  new  sister-in-law  is  en- 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    343 

hanced  tenfold  when  she  is  forced  by  Anzoletto,  her 
brother,  to  move  to  a  court-yard  room  in  order  that  his 
wife  may  have  the  sun  in  hers. 

When  Cecilia,  though  a  bride  of  only  fifteen  days' 
standing,  comes  attended  by  a  cicisbeo  to  view  the  new 
house,  her  common  little  nose  turns  haughtily  up- 
ward at  everything  she  finds  there,  even  to  Lucietta, 
the  housemaid,  whom  she  discharges.  Lucietta  ap- 
peals to  Menechina,  who  upholds  her,  whereupon  a 
pretty  kettle  of  feminine  fish  is  set  a-stewing  which 
Anzoletto  strives  to  cool.  His  creditors  press  their 
claims  meanwhile,  forcing  him  to  the  humiliating  ex- 
tremity of  appealing  in  vain  to  his  wife's  cicisbeo  for 
a  loan.  In  the  midst  of  this  family  imbroglio, 
Checca,  the  occupant  of  the  floor  above,  comes  with 
Rosina,  her  sister,  to  call  upon  the  new  tenants,  only 
to  be  refused  the  door  because  she  tactlessly  asks  to 
see  both  the  warring  ladies  of  the  house,  each  of 
whom  feels  that  the  honour  of  this  visit  should  have 
been  paid  to  her  alone. 

Humiliated  by  this  affront,  Checca  and  Rosina 
rake  the  arrogant  bride  over  the  coals  of  their  anger, 
and  tarnish  the  character  of  the  girl  their  cousin  Lo- 
renzino  loves,  in  this  thoroughly  feminine  way: 

CHECCA 
Either  they  are  boors,  or  they  are  stuck-up. 

ROSINA 

Whatever  they  are,  they  do  not  appear  to  me  to  be  boors,  since 
it  is  evident  that  they  go  about. 


344  GOLDONI 

CHECCA 

Why,  the  bride  has  been  married  only  a  fortnight,  and  already 
she  has  her  cavalier  to  serve  her. 

ROSINA 

And  the  girl,  hasn't  she  coquetted  all  her  life? 

CHECCA 

According  to  our  cousin  Lorenzino,  when  out  of  doors  she 
wears  her  veil  down  to  her  waist,  but  in  the  house  or  on  the  bal- 
cony she  has  no  scruples  about  being  seen. 

ROSINA 

Do  not  folks  say  that  they  spooned  together  all  day  and  all 
night? 

CHECCA 

La!  what  girls  they  are!  Listen,  sister,  do  not  follow  the  ex- 
ample of  these  flighty  creatures.  I  can  say  that  my  husband  was 
the  first  admirer  who  ever  addressed  me.  Remember  that  our 
mother  reared  us  and  that  now  you  are  living  with  me. 

ROSINA 

Sister,  dear,  no  need  is  there  for  you  to  preach  me  such  a  ser- 
mon. You  know  the  sort  of  girl  I  am. 

CHECCA 
Why  do  you  think  those  miserable  hussies  refused  to  receive  us? 

ROSINA 

I  will  tell  you.  It  may  be  because  they  have  just  moved  into 
their  new  house;  that  it  is  not  set  to  rights,  that  it  is  not  fur- 
nished yet,  and  on  that  account  they  did  not  wish  anybody  around. 

CHECCA 

Truly,  I  believe  you  are  right.  It  must  needs  be  that  they're 
stuck-up  for  a  good  reason.  In  fact,  to  confess  the  truth,  we  have 
been  too  hasty  in  calling;  better  had  we  waited  until  to-morrow; 
yet  I  had  such  a  curiosity  to  see  this  bride  near  by  that  I  could  not 
restrain  myself.16 

In  spite  of  her  resentfulness  for  the  snub  admin- 

16  Act  II,  Scene  i. 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    345 

istered  to  her,  Checca,  a  kind-hearted  soul,  grants 
Menechina  and  Lorenzino  a  tryst  in  her  apartment. 
In  the  midst  of  their  love-making,  Cecilia,  the  bride, 
comes  to  make  amends  for  her  rudeness,  the  lover 
meanwhile  hiding  in  an  adjoining  closet.  First 
quarrelling  shrewishly  with  Menechina,  her  sister- 
in-law,  Cecilia  then  lords  it  over  her  hostess  in  this 
way,  so  characteristic  of  the  newly  rich  of  our  own, 
as  well  as  of  Goldoni's  day: 

CECILIA 

How  do  you  amuse  yourselves?  Do  you  go  to  the  play?  Do 
you  go  in  society? 

CHECCA 

I  scarcely  know  what  to  say.  When  my  husband  is  in  Venice 
we  go  once  or  twice  in  the  week  to  the  opera,  or  to  the  play,  but 
now  that  he  is  absent  we  remain  at  home. 

CECILIA 

If  you  wish  you  may  have  the  keys  to  any  of  my  boxes.  I  have 
them  at  all  the  theatres,  you  know.  My  gondola,  too,  is  at  your 
disposal,  if  you  wish  it. 

CHECCA 

Many  thanks.  To  confess  the  truth,  when  my  husband  is  not 
at  home  I  go  nowhere. 

CECILIA 

And  when  your  husband  is  at  home,  do  you  wish  him  to  be  al- 
ways with  you? 

CHECCA 

If  he  so  choose. 

CECILIA 

And  you  put  him  to  that  amount  of  trouble,  to  that  amount  of 
bondage  ?  Poor  man,  you  should  take  pity  on  your  husband.  In- 
duce him  to  attend  to  his  own  affairs.  Permit  him  to  go  where 
he  pleases.  May  you  not  go  to  the  play  without  your  husband? 


346  GOLDONI 

CHECCA 

Oh,  I  do  not  mind.  When  my  husband  cannot  go  I  remain  at 
home. 

CECILIA 

(Aside.)  Oh,  what  a  fool!  And  what,  pray,  do  you  do  at 
home?  Do  you  play  cards? 

CHECCA 
Sometimes  we  amuse  ourselves. 

CECILIA 

And  what  do  you  play? 

CHECCA 

Tresette,  cotecchio,  mercante  in  fiera.ir 

CECILIA 

La!  I  have  no  use  for  such  games.  I  like  faro,  but  for  low 
stakes,  mind  you,  a  bank  of  eight  or  ten  sequins,  no  more.18  You 
should  attend  one  of  our  routs.  Only  persons  a  la  mode, — I  do 
not  mind  saying.  Never  are  we  less  than  fourteen  or  sixteen, 
and  almost  every  evening  we  eat  something,  either  a  brace  or  two 
of  woodcock,  a  smoked  tongue,  some  truffles,  or  some  delicious 
fish  or  other;  moreover,  there  is  our  wine  cellar,  of  which  no  one 
need  be  ashamed ;  it  is  something  exquisite.19 

Evicted  from  her  new  house  when  doting  Anzo- 
letto  is  unable  to  borrow  from  false  friends,  Cecilia, 
the  bride  who  utters  this  vulgar  cock-a-hoop,  becomes 
a  contrite  and  loving  wife,  her  husband's  surly  uncle, 
whose  heart  has  a  tender  spot  in  it,  being  the  deus 
ex  machina  to  whom  she  humbly  appeals  in  her  ad- 
versity. Kind-hearted  Checca,  too,  wins  this  uncle's 
promise  of  a  dowry  for  Menechina;  so  the  story  ends 

17  The  first  was  a  four-handed   round  game;   in  the  second,  the  one 
who  lost  most  points,  won,  making  it  somewhat  like  "hearts."     The  third 
was   played  with  two  packs  of  cards   and  by  an  indefinite  number  of 
players. 

18  A  Venetian  sequin  was  worth  about  $2.50.  19  Act  II,  Scene  9. 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    347 

happily,  Cecilia's  too  sudden  metamorphosis  from  an 
ill-bred  snob  to  an  abject  penitent  being  the  one  dis- 
cordant note  in  an  otherwise  masterly  comedy. 

Once  more  Goldoni  had  painted  life  from  the  life 
about  him.  "I  had  changed  my  lodgings,"  he  says, 
"and  as  I  was  always  looking  for  subjects  of  comedy, 
I  found  one  in  the  embarrassments  of  my  removal. 
I  did  not,  however,  derive  the  subject  from  my  own 
predicament,  but  the  circumstances  suggested  the 
title,  and  my  imagination  did  the  rest."  In  the  pref- 
ace he  boasts  that  if  he  had  written  but  this  single 
comedy,  it  would  have  been  sufficient  to  secure  for 
him  the  reputation  he  had  acquired  through  so  many 
others.  Moreover,  he  returns  to  the  subject  eleven 
years  later,  Cristofolo,  the  benevolent  though  surly 
uncle  who  unties  the  knots  of  the  plot  with  his  mag- 
nanimity, being,  as  his  author  confesses,  "the  germ  of 
Geronte,"  the  testy  yet  tender-hearted  old  codger  who 
gives  The  Beneficent  Bear  (Le  Bourru  bienfaisant] 
its  title.  Although  lacking  in  the  intensely  human 
characterization  of  The  Boors,  "the  skill  with  which 
The  New  House  is  constructed,"  to  quote  Gasparo 
Gozzi,  "makes  it  interesting  from  top  to  bottom." 
Goldoni  had  treated  prodigality  before,20  but  no- 
where so  vitally  as  in  this  Venetian  comedy.  More- 
over, the  subject  is  perennial,  and  of  such  enduring 
interest  that  Sardou  could  not  fail  to  see  its  worth. 
From  the  materials  used  by  Goldoni,  this  master- 

20  In  //  Prodigo,  La  Bancarotta,  La  Buona  moglie,  La  Famiglia  dell' 
antiquano,  I  Malcontenti,  and  La  Villeggiatura. 


348  GOLDONI 

builder  of  plays  constructed  his  Maison  neuve,  a 
comedy  almost  as  far  from  the  truth  of  life  as  Gol- 
doni's  play  is  close  to  it. 

A  few  leagues  south  of  Venice  on  the  sandy  shore 
of  the  lagoon  stood  the  fishing  town  of  Chioggia, 
with  a  speech  and  manners  of  its  own.  There  Gol- 
doni  had  passed,  as  we  have  seen,  many  days  of  his 
youth,  and  in  early  manhood  had  held  the  post  of 
coadjutor  to  the  criminal  chancellor.  Inspired  by 
his  experiences  there,  he  wrote  in  the  dialect  of  that 
quaint  place  The  Chioggian  Brawls  (Le  Baruffe 
chiozzotte),  a  play  of  the  common  people,  that  shares 
with  The  Boors  the  distinction  of  doing  him  "the 
greatest  honour."  21 

On  October  loth,  1786,  Goethe  wrote  from  Venice: 

At  last  I  can  say  I  have  seen  a  comedy:  They  played  to-day 
at  the  San  Luca  Theatre  Le  Baruffe  chiozzotte,  which  I  should 
interpret,  "The  Brawls  and  Shouting  of  Chioggia."  The  char- 
acters are  all  seafaring  men,  inhabitants  of  Chioggia,  and  their 
wives,  sisters,  and  daughters.  The  usual  babble  of  such  people  in 
good  and  evil — their  dealings  with  one  another,  their  vehemence, 
but  kindness  of  heart,  commonplace  remarks,  and  spontaneous  man- 
ners, their  naive  wit  and  humour — all  this  was  skilfully  imitated. 
The  piece  is  by  Goldoni,  and  as  I  had  been  only  the  day  before  in 
the  place  itself,  and  as  the  voices  and  behaviour  of  the  sailors  and 
people  of  the  seaport  still  echoed  in  my  ears  and  floated  before 
my  eyes,  it  was  a  great  joy  to  me ;  and  although  I  did  not  under- 
stand many  a  feature,  I  was  nevertheless,  on  the  whole,  able  to 
follow  it  pretty  well. 

Continuing,  Goethe  expounded  what  appeared  to 

21  Although  the  dialect  in  which  The  Chioggian  Brawls  is  written  is 
not  precisely  Venetian,  the  differences  that  mark  it  are  slight,  Chioggia 
being  a  dependency  of  Venice. 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    349 

him  to  be  the  story  of  the  play;  yet  when  the  plot 
waxed  too  hot  for  his  comprehension,  he  dismissed 
it  as  "an  endless  din  of  scolding,  railing,  and  scream- 
ing." Its  spirit  was  not  lost  upon  him,  however,  for 
in  conclusion  he  says: 

I  never  saw  anything  like  the  noisy  delight  the  people  evinced 
at  seeing  themselves  and  their  mates  represented  with  such  truth 
to  nature.  It  was  one  continued  laugh  and  tumultuous  shout  of 
exultation  from  beginning  to  end.  .  .  .  Great  praise  is  due  the 
author,  who  out  of  nothing  had  here  created  a  most  amusing  en- 
tertainment. 

At  the  time  Goethe  wrote,  Goldoni,  though  a  feeble 
octogenarian,  was  as  light-hearted  and  generous  to- 
wards his  fellow-men  as  when,  at  the  age  of  fifty-four, 
he  had  first  put  upon  the  stage  of  that  same  San 
Luca  Theatre  the  vivacious  picture  of  Chioggian  life 
which  so  charmed  his  great  contemporary.  To  have 
witnessed  the  "noisy  delight"  of  those  people  of  Ven- 
ice would  have  warmed  the  cockles  of  his  honest 
old  heart,  yet  he,  an  exile  at  a  moribund  court,  could 
only  recall  the  former  night  of  triumph  while  thus 
writing  in  his  memoirs : 

I  composed  a  Venetian  piece,  entitled  The  Chioggian  Brawls, 
a  low  comedy  that  produced  an  admirable  effect.  ...  I  had  been 
coadjutor  of  the  criminal  chancellor  at  Chioggia  in  my  youth. 
.  .  .  My  position  brought  me  in  contact  with  that  numerous  and 
tumultuous  population  of  fishermen,  sailors,  and  women  of  the 
people,  whose  only  place  of  meeting  was  the  open  street.  I  knew 
their  manners,  their  singular  language,  their  gaiety,  and  their 
spite;  I  was  enabled  to  paint  them  accurately;  and  the  capital, 
which  is  only  eight  leagues  distant  from  the  town,  was  perfectly 
well  acquainted  with  my  originals. 


350  GOLDONI 

That  the  exceedingly  human  plot  of  this  play 
should  have  been  to  Goethe  a  "demon  of  confusion," 
is  not  surprising;  a  court  official  in  the  play  itself— 
the  sole  Venetian  character — being  unable  to  under- 
stand the  dialect  of  Padron  Fortunate,  a  stuttering 
fisherman,  described  by  Goethe  as  "an  old  sailor 
who,  from  the  hardships  he  has  been  exposed  to  from 
his  childhood,  trembles  and  falters  in  all  his  limbs, 
and  even  in  his  very  organs  of  speech." 

When  the  curtain  rises,  this  stammering  sea-dog 
is  aboard  the  fishing-smack  (tartana)  of  Padron 
Toni,  whose  wife,  Pasqua,  and  sister,  Lucietta,  are 
seen  making  lace  before  the  door  of  their  house. 
Libera,  wife  of  the  "trembling,  faltering  Fortunato," 
together  with  her  sisters  Orsetta  and  Checca,  sits  in 
the  street  too,  stitching  and  gossiping.  Aboard  the 
smack  are  Titta-Nane,  Lucietta's  betrothed,  and 
Beppo,  her  brother,  plighted  to  Orsetta.  At  large  in 
the  streets  of  Chioggia  is  Toffolo,  nicknamed  "Mar- 
motino"  (little  fool),  a  youthful  boatman  and  the 
town  jack-a-dandy.  When  this  young  fellow,  stroll- 
ing down  the  street,  sees  pretty  Lucietta  lace-making, 
he  buys  her  a  slice  of  roast  pumpkin  from  a  passing 
street  vender,  and  one  for  Orsetta  too,  the  betrothed 
of  Beppo,  but  when  he  offers  to  treat  Checca,  she, 
in  pique  at  being  invited  last,  refuses  to  accept. 
"But  Lucietta  did,"  Toffolo  says  ingenuously.  "She 
is  capable  of  anything,"  answers  Checca,  with  a  pert 
toss  of  her  head,  an  aspersion  that  starts  the  fiery  ball 
of  Italian  temper  rolling. 


COMMON   PEOPLE 


Museo    Correr 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    351 

Before  the  Chioggian  brawls  that  give  the  play 
its  name  burst  fully  forth,  Padron  Toni's  smack  is 
shown  at  her  moorings,  her  yellow  sail  with  the 
winged  lion  of  St.  Mark  flapping  lazily  in  the  breeze, 
her  nets  drying  on  her  briny  quarters.  The  catch  is 
unloaded;  the  women  flock  to  the  port  to  greet  their 
husbands  and  lovers ;  then  Lucietta  cattishly  whispers 
to  her  brother  Beppo  to  beware  of  TofTolo's  atten- 
tions to  Orsetta,  while  Checca,  with  vindictiveness 
equally  feline,  informs  Titta-Nane  that  Toffolo  has 
brazenly  presented  Lucietta  with  "roast  pumpkin" — 
a  wagging  of  tongues  that  sends  both  Beppo  and 
Titta-Nane  in  murderous  search  of  him.  Beppo 
meets  him;  abuse  pours  volubly  from  his  angry  lips; 
Toffolo  throws  stones,  Beppo  draws  his  knife,  his 
father  intervenes;  Titta-Nane  appears  armed  with  a 
pistol.  Chairs  and  lace-cushions  are  upset;  wives 
and  sweethearts  shriek  abuse;  fathers,  brothers,  and 
lovers  curse  and  pommel  one  another  just  because  a 
town  dandy,  in  love  with  one  pretty  girl,  has  given 
another  a  slice  of  roast  pumpkin ;  yet  although  knives 
are  drawn  and  pistols  pointed,  the  first  act  is  brought 
to  a  close  without  the  actual  spilling  of  blood  or  any 
one's  knowing  exactly  why  he  has  been  drawn  into 
these  Chioggian  brawls. 

In  the  second  act  Toffolo  lodges  a  complaint  with 
the  coadjutor  against  the  unwarranted  attack  made 
upon  him,  and  a  bailiff  is  sent  to  hale  every  one  con- 
nected with  the  rumpus  into  court;  but  before  this 
official  executes  his  warrants,  the  following  touching 


352  GOLDONI 

lovers'  quarrel  ensues,  jealous  Titta-Nane  stumbling 
upon  temperate  Pasqua  while  she  is  imploring  Lu- 
cietta  to  realize  that  her  lover's  anger  is  merely  an- 
other proof  of  his  love:22 

TITTA-NANE 

(Seeing  Lucietta.)     I  wish  to  cast  her  off,  but  have  not  the 
heart. 

PASQUA 
(To  Lucietta.)     Look  at  him. 

LUCIETTA 

(To  Pasqua.)     Oh,  I  have  my  lace  to  look  to.     I  have  that  to 
look  to. 

PASQUA 
(Aside.)     I'd  like  to  smash  her  head  on  that  lace-cushion. 

TITTA-NANE 

She  does  not  look  at  me  at  all.     She  does  not  think  of  me  at 
all. 

PASQUA 

Good  day  to  thee,  Titta-Nane. 

TITTA-NANE 

Good  day  to  thee. 

PASQUA 

(Te  Lucietta.)     Greet  him. 

LUCIETTA 

(To  Pasqua.)     Dost  fancy  I  will  be  the  first? 

TITTA-NANE 

What  a  haste  to  work! 

PASQUA 
What  sayest  thou?     Are  we  not  respectable  women,  lad? 

TITTA-NANE 

Yes,  yes,  you  do  well  to  make  haste  while  you  may;  when 
young  lads  come  nosing  around  there  will  be  no  time  to  work. 

22  To  convey  the  lisping  charm  of  this   dialect  scene,   as  well   as  its 
Italian  volubility,  in  bluff  English  is  manifestly  an  impossibility. 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    353 

LUCIETTA 

(Coughs  mockingly.) 

PASQUA 
(To  Lucietta.)     Relent. 

LUCIETTA 

Never. 

Lucietta  goes  off,  and  Pasqua  tries  to  assuage  Titta- 
Nane  by  telling  him  that  when  he  is  at  sea  and  the 
wind  "blows  up  fresh,"  Lucietta  gets  up  in  the  middle 
of  the  night  to  go  out  on  her  balcony  and  watch  the 
clouds;  for  "she  can  see  with  no  eyes  but  thine"  she 
assures  him.  But  Titta-Nane  is  obdurate.  "Get  her 
to  confess  all  and  ask  pardon,"  he  says.  Lucietta  re- 
turns bearing  his  gifts. 

LUCIETTA 

Take,  sir,  thy  slippers  and  ribbons  and  the  keepsakes  thou  gav- 
est  me.      (She  flings  them  on  the  ground.) 

PASQUA 

Oh,  dear  me!  Art  thou  daft?  (She  picks  up  the  gifts  and 
places  them  on  a  chair.) 

TITTA-NANE 

And  this  indignity  to  me? 

LUCIETTA 

Didst  thou  not  cast  me  off?  Take  thy  trinkets.  Do  with 
them  what  thou  wilt. 

TITTA-NANE 

If  ever  thou  shouldst  speak  to  "Marmotino,"  I  will  kill  him. 

LUCIETTA 

Merciful  heavens!  Thou  hast  cast  me  off;  wouldst  thou  lord 
it  over  me  as  well? 


354  GOLDONI 

TITTA-NANE 

I  cast  thee  off  because  of  him — I  cast  thee  off. 

PASQUA 

Fie  on  thee,  lad,  for  thinking  that  Lucietta  would  stoop  to  such 
a  vagabond. 

LUCIETTA 

Ill-favoured  may  I  be,  a  hapless  wretch  may  I  be,  or  anything 
thou  likest;  yet  never  will  I  be  enamoured  of  a  ferryman. 

TITTA-NANE 

Why  didst  thou  let  him  loiter  around  thee?  Why  didst  thou 
let  him  buy  thee  roast  pumpkin? 

LUCIETTA 

Well,  well,  what  a  crime! 

PASQUA 
Mercy,  what  an  ado  about  nothing! 

TITTA-NANE 

When  I  make  love,  I  wish  no  one  to  be  able  to  gossip.  I  will 
have  it  thus,  I  will.  By  Heaven,  no  man  has  wronged  Titta- 
Nane!  No  man  shall  wrong  him. 

LUCIETTA 
How  thin-skinned  thou  art!     (Wipes  her  eyes.) 

TITTA-NANE 

I  am  a  man,  dost  hear !     I  am  a  man.     I  am  no  boy,  dost  hear ! 

LUCIETTA 
(Weeps ',  showing  that  she  is  making  an  effort  not  to  weep.) 

PASQUA 

(To  Lucietta.)     What  ails  thee? 

LUCIETTA 

Nothing.      (Weeping,  she  nudges  Pasqua.) 

PASQUA 

Art  thou  weeping? 

LUCIETTA 

With  anger,  with  anger;  well  could  I  flay  him  with  my  own 
hands. 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    355 

TITTA-NANE 

Now,   then,   what   means   this   sobbing?     {Approaching  Luci- 
etta.) 

LUCIETTA 

Go  to  perdition! 

TITTA-NANE 

Dost  thou  hear,  siora?     (To  Pasqua.) 

PASQUA 

Ay,  isn't  she  right,  when  thou  art  worse  than  a  dog? 

TITTA-NANE 

Wilt  wager  that  I  throw  myself  in  the  canal? 

PASQUA 
Fie  upon  thee,  fool! 

LUCIETTA 

Let  him  go;  let  him  go. 

PASQUA 
Fie  upon  thee,  hussy! 

TITTA-NANE 

I  loved  her  dearly,  I  loved  her  dearly.      (Showing  tenderness.) 

PASQUA 

(To  Titta-Nane.)     And  now  thou  lovest  her  no  more? 

TITTA-NANE 

How  can  I,  if  she  loves  me  no  more? 

PASQUA 
What  sayest  thou  to  that,  Lucietta? 

LUCIETTA 

Let  me  alone,  let  me  alone! 

PASQUA 

(To  Lucietta.)     Here,   take  thy  shoes,  thy  ribbons,  and  thy 
trinkets. 

LUCIETTA 
I  wish  nothing,  I  wish  nothing. 

PASQUA 

(To  Lucietta.)     Come  here;  hearken  to  me. 


356  GOLDONI 

LUCIETTA 

Let  me  alone. 

PASQUA 

Say  one  word. 

LUCIETTA 

No. 

PASQUA 

(To  Titta-Nane.)     Come  here,  Titta-Nane. 

TITTA-NANE 

Never. 

PASQUA 

Get  thee  gone. 

TITTA-NANE 

Nay,  I  will  not. 

PASQUA 

I  should  send  both  of  you  to  be  drawn  and  quartered.23 

"This  is  no  longer  comedy,"  says  Professor  Orto- 
lani,  "but  the  lacerations  of  the  human  heart — the 
blood  of  the  people."  24  Indeed,  this  play  could  not 
have  called  forth  "one  continued  laugh  and  tumultu- 
ous shout  of  exultation,"  as  Goethe  relates ;  for  when 
Titta-Nane  quarrelled  with  Lucietta  there  must  have 
been  a  moment  of  silence  tempered  by  sympathetic 
tears.  Yet  there  is  food  for  laughter  enough  when 
all  the  Chioggian  brawlers  being  haled  before  the 
coadjutor,  Padron  Fortunato's  stammering  causes 
that  official  to  close  his  court  in  sheer  desperation. 

In  the  final  act  the  coadjutor  steps  from  the  ma- 
chine, a  god  to  quell  these  Chioggian  brawls  by  his 
good  offices,  ardent  Titta-Nane  being  united  to  his 
adored  Lucietta,  fiery  Beppo  to  Orsetta,  and  Toffolo, 

23  Act  II,  Scene  3.  24  Op.  cit. 


COMEDIES  IN  VENETIAN  DIALECT    357 

the  mischief-maker,  to  tattling  Checca.  This  accom- 
plished, the  benevolent  coadjutor  orders  wine,  pump- 
kins, and  other  goodies,  and  calling  for  fiddles,  bids 
the  reconciled  Chioggians  regale  themselves.  In  the 
words  of  Vernon  Lee: 

Have  we  seen  the  ship  come  in,  and  fish  in  the  basket?  Have 
we  seen  the  women  at  their  lace-cushions?  Have  we  heard  that 
storm  of  cries,  and  shrieks,  and  clatter,  and  scuffling  feet?  Have 
we  really  witnessed  this  incident  of  fishing  life  on  the  Adriatic? 
No;  we  have  only  laid  down  a  little  musty  volume,  at  the  place 
marked  Le  Baruffe  chiozzotte,25 

Among  all  Goldoni's  comedies,  there  is  none  so 
pulsating  with  life  as  The  Ghioggian  Brawls.  It 
fairly  teems  with  colour  and  evidences  of  fidelity  of 
touch ;  it  is  a  play,  in  fact,  such  as  perhaps  never  had 
been  written  in  the  world  before ;  at  least  the  present 
writer  can  recall  in  the  previous  range  of  the  drama 
no  such  actual  picture  of  lower-class  humanity,  no 
play  dealing  solely  with  the  proletariat,  where  every 
character,  every  situation  is  true  to  the  life  of  the 
common  people.  It  is  true  that  farces  of  street  life 
are  as  old  as  Menander:  indeed  it  was  the  Venetian 
custom  to  present  dialect  farces  at  carnival  time;  but 
where  is  there  a  comedy  written  before  Goldoni's  day 
and  dealing  solely  with  the  lower  class,  that  possesses 
its  good-humoured  sincerity,  its  humanity,  its  fidelity 
to  the  life  of  the  common  people — their  emotions,  as 
well  as  their  vagaries? 

Beneath  the  broad  merriment  of  this  play  there 

25  Op.  cit. 


358  GOLDONI 

are  undertones  of  human  passion  that  raise  it  from 
what  its  author  modestly  calls  "low  comedy"  to  the 
level  of  drama.  Here  was  a  painting  of  actual  life; 
yet  artificial  Marivaux  had  just  danced  in  France 
his  dramatic  minuet.  To  quote  Professor  Ortolani 
once  more,  "Marivaux  is  a  bit  of  lace  a  zephyr  will 
tear,  Goldoni  a  piece  of  good  sound  cloth  time  will 
not  wear  out."  The  one  is  the  poet  of  a  condition, 
the  other  the  poet  of  a  race.  Unlike  his  French  con- 
temporary, the  Venetian  wrote  from  the  depths  of 
his  own  experience  and  observation.  His  dialect 
characters  are  not  pretty  mechanical  dolls  dressed  in 
lace,  but  pulsating  human  beings,  clad  in  homespun. 
Keen  critics,  such  as  Goethe,  must  ever  give  "great 
praise"  to  his  truthful  pictures  of  Venetian  life, 
painted  in  colours  so  vivid  that  they  will  endure  long 
after  the  delicate  hues  of  Marivaudage  shall  have 
faded  completely. 


XI 

EXOTIC  COMEDIES 

WHENEVER  Goldoni  lays  the  scene  of  a 
comedy  in  a  land  where  he  has  not  dwelt, 
the  light  of  his  peculiar  genius  is  usually 
obscured  by  a  nescient  mist  which  even  his  brilliant 
stage-craft  fails  to  dissipate  entirely.  This  is  par- 
ticularly true  of  his  exotic  comedies  in  verse,  such  as 
The  Persian  Bride  (LaSposa  persiana)  and  The  Fair 
Savage  (La  Bella  selvaggia),  whose  jejune  lines 
are  befogged  by  outlandish  atmosphere.  On  the 
other  hand,  cheering  sunlight  permeates  the  artifi- 
ciality of  the  exotic  comedies  in  prose  whenever  their 
studied  refinement  is  disturbed  by  an  outburst  of 
mirth,  which  Goldoni's  spontaneous  nature  could 
never  wholly  restrain.  Though  the  path  their  author 
here  treads  is  strange,  his  steps  are  not  retarded  by  any 
fettering  measure;  while  in  the  scenes  of  these  come- 
dies he  does  not  wander  so  far  afield — England  and 
Holland  being  nearer  his  native  land  than  the  Orient 
or  America,  and  certainly  more  akin  to  it  in  custom 
and  sentiment.  There  are  only  four  of  these  exotic 
comedies  in  prose — by  far  the  smallest  number  in  any 
single  category  of  his  work;  yet,  few  though  they  are, 
they  reflect,  more  truly  than  any  which  came  from  his 

359 


360  GOLDONI 

prolific  pen,  the  literary  influences  of  the  eighteenth 
century:  an  age  like  our  own,  as  Mr.  Charles  Leon- 
ard Moore  aptly  puts  it,1  "of  smugness  and  snug- 
ness,"  and  like  it,  too,  an  age  of  literary  common 
sense  unadorned  by  poetry  and  undisturbed  by  hero- 
ism  and  profundities,  since,  to  quote  Mr.  Moore 
again : 

In  thought,  we  have  substituted  the  idea  of  evolution  for  ra- 
tionalism; in  form  we  have  put  the  novel  in  place  of  satire  or 
didactic  form.  But  for  absolute  poetry — the  poetry  of  imagina- 
tion and  beauty — we  have  the  same  disinclination  as  our  fore- 
fathers had  then.  Tragedy  is  again  abhorrent  to  us  and  we  wreak 
our  souls  on  humour  and  social  comedy. 

Moreover,  our  own  age,  like  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, is  one  of  social  upheaval  and  discontent,  in 
which  the  third  estate  is  again  arrayed  against  the 
church  and  the  privileged  classes.  We  have  our  phi- 
losophers, too,  our  preachers  of  the  rights  of  man, 
therefore  there  is  more  than  literary  common  sense 
to  make  us  akin  to  the  eighteenth  century. 

Kindly  Goldoni's  spontaneous  naturalism  was  ill 
at  ease  when  arrayed  in  didactic  sentiment;  yet  when, 
as  in  Pamela  Unmarried  (Pamela  nubile),  the  first 
of  his  exotic  comedies  in  prose,  he  wanders  meta- 
phorically away  from  impulsive  Venice  to  compla- 
cent London  by  way  of  restless  Paris,  he  is  brought 
under  the  influence  of  both  the  didacticism  and  dis- 
content of  his  age.  Its  unquestioned  wit  and  humor 
went  with  him;  therefore  in  viewing  his  Pamela,  a 

1  The  Eighteenth  Century  Come  Again,  The  Dial,  September  18,  1911. 


EXOTIC  COMEDIES  361 

comedy  founded  upon  Samuel  Richardson's  epoch- 
marking  novel  of  that  name,  the  thing  to  be  consid- 
ered in  addition  to  its  exoticism  is  the  part  English 
smugness  and  French  unrest  played  in  moulding  it; 
for,  though  its  sentimentality  is  as  wearisomely  nice 
as  that  of  the  novel  from  which  it  is  taken,  there  is  a 
presage  of  Rousseau  in  it. 

Although  Richardson  disputes  with  Defoe,  Pre- 
vost,  Marivaux,  and  in  an  even  greater  degree  with 
Madame  de  la  Fayette,  for  the  honour  of  having  writ- 
ten the  first  modern  novel,  no  one  denies  that  his 
Pamela  possesses  the  essential  elements  of  fiction; 
concisely  summed  up  by  a  modern  critic  as  "plot, 
motive,  character  portrayal,  emotional  excitement, 
background,  and  style."  2  Moreover,  if  Pamela;  or, 
Virtue  Rewarded  be  not  the  first  novel,  it  is  certainly 
the  first  "best  seller";  this  work  of  a  prosperous,  vain, 
timid,  and  fat  little  English  printer  having  created 
for  its  "lambkin"  of  a  heroine  a  veritable  furore,  not 
only  in  England,  but  on  the  continent  as  well,  where 
it  was  translated  into  several  tongues  and  read  as 
widely  as  in  the  land  of  its  birth.  Goldoni,  however, 
was  not  the  first  playwright  to  realize  the  dramatic 
value  of  its  heroine's  native  innocence  and  purity, 
virtue  being  an  appealing  dramatic  subject,  possibly 
because  of  its  contrast  to  the  reality  of  eighteenth 
century  life.  In  1749,  the  year  before  Goldoni's 
Pamela  saw  the  boards,  Voltaire  had  presented  to  a 
Parisian  audience  his  Nanine,  also  a  play  based  on 

2  Charles  F.  Home,  The  Technique  of  the  Novel. 


362  GOLDONI 

Richardson's  novel;  yet  six  years  before  (1743)  La 
Chaussee  had  put  forth  his  Pamela,  a  five-act  comedy 
in  verse;  while  about  the  same  time  another  stage 
version  of  this  story  appeared  from  the  pen  of  Louis 
de  Boissy,  a  lesser  light.3 

La  Chaussee,  the  author  of  one  of  these  stage  Pame- 
las, holds  a  position  in  the  drama  not  unlike  that  oc- 
cupied in  fiction  by  Richardson;  for,  while  the  En- 
glishman was  crystallizing  into  a  popular  form  the 
various  elements  that  compose  the  modern  novel,  the 
Frenchman  was  inventing  lachrymose  comedy 
(comedie  larmoyante),  or  bourgeois  tragedy  (trage- 
die  bourgeoise)  as  it  is  sometimes  called — a  dramatic 
form  now  termed  drama,  or  comedy  drama,  accord- 
ing to  the  intensity  of  the  plot.  Intended  to  call 
forth  tears  as  well  as  laughter,  it  is  the  form  that  vies 
with  farce  in  holding  the  attention  of  modern  audi- 
ences ;  for  seldom  now  are  we  regaled  by  pure  com- 
edy, such  as  Moliere's,  or  pure  tragedy,  such  as  that 
of  the  Greeks,  or  of  Racine.  Until  La  Chaussee's 
day  tragedy  and  comedy  were  not  blended  in  plays  of 
contemporaneous  manners,  the  nearest  previous  ap- 
proach to  lachrymose  comedy  being  the  tragi-com- 
edy,  or  play  of  serious  emotions  with  a  happy  ending. 
As  this  latter  form  was  not  used  to  treat  of  everyday 
life,  La  Chaussee  sounded  a  new  dramatic  note.  To 
quote  one  of  his  contemporaries : 4 

He  has  invented  a  new  style  of  comedy.     It  had  represented 

3  Pamela  en  Trance;  ou  la  vertu  mleux  eprouvee. 

4  L.    Riccobini,    Lettera    al    signor    dottor    Muratorl,    May    30,    1737. 
Quoted  in  the  Nouvelle  Biographic  Generate,  Vol.  XXVIII. 


EXOTIC  COMEDIES  363 

heretofore  the  domestic  life  of  burghers  and  well-to-do  folk,  and 
sometimes  even  of  artisans:  the  ancient  stage,  Greek  as  well  as 
Latin,  furnishes  us  no  longer  with  models  except  those  of  the  na- 
ture which  the  moderns  have  imitated.  There  is,  however,  in 
society  a  class  of  people  excluded  from  a  comic  plot;  gentlemen 
and  lords  of  noble  birth  being  held  to  be  too  exalted  to  enter  into 
the  domestic  situations  which  have  always  been  the  inheritance  of 
comedy.  On  the  other  hand,  they  cannot  function  in  tragedy, 
since  they  are  not  great  enough  to  wear  the  buskin,  worthy  only 
of  princes  and  heroic  deeds.  It  is  these  same  persons,  occupying, 
if  one  may  use  the  term,  a  sort  of  isolated  niche,  a  middle  state 
as  it  were,  between  the  high  order  of  tragedy  and  the  rank  and 
file  of  comedy,  whom  M.  de  la  Chaussee  has  conceived  as  taking 
part  in  a  plot  that  may  sometimes  have  the  interest  of  tragedy, 
and  sometimes  present  situations  in  polite  life  between  people  of 
quality,  and  which  thus  preserves  the  character  of  comedy. 

One  of  La  Chaussee's  lachrymose  comedies  pic- 
turing stiltedly  the  manners  of  a  bygone  day  will  not 
hold  the  attention  of  a  modern  audience,  nor  will 
Richardson's  artless  heroine  do  aught  but  make  the 
modern  novel  reader  yawn,  unless  he  be  a  very  young 
person  sentimentally  inclined,  no  adult  modern 
reader  being  able  to  derive  pleasure  from  four  vol- 
umes treating,  as  Richardson  expressed  it,  "of  virtue 
rewarded  in  a  series  of  familiar  letters  from  a  beau- 
tiful young  damsel  to  her  parents,  published  in  order 
to  cultivate  the  principles  of  virtue  and  religion  in 
the  minds  of  the  youth  of  both  sexes."  The  day  of 
Pamela  is  passed.  We  are  no  longer  interested  in 
the  trials  of  this  child  of  fifteen,  half  servant,  half 
adopted  daughter  of  an  old  lady,  who  on  the  death 
of  her  mistress  is  exposed  to  the  amorous  importuni- 
ties and  persecutions  of  Mr.  B ,  her  young  mas- 


364  GOLDONI 

ter.     Though  she  loves  Mr.  B secretly  in  spite 

of  his  persecutions,  and  continues  humble  and  de- 
voted, even  when  her  virtue  is  rewarded  by  his  hand 
and  heart,  she  will  not  awaken  our  jaded  interest— 
except  perhaps  when  venal  Mrs.  Jewkes  introduces 
her  importunate  master  in  female  disguise  into  her 
virginal  bed.  Equally  are  we  bored  by  the  didactic 
picture  of  the  dismal  consequences  of  blind  and 
doting  maternal  love  La  Chaussee  presents  in  The 
School  for  Mothers  (L'Ecole  des  meres),  although 
La  Harpe  called  it  "one  of  the  best  comedies  of  the 
eighteenth  century."  5 

Yet,  stilted  as  are  the  novels  of  the  one  and  the  come- 
dies of  the  other,  Richardson  and  La  Chaussee  played 
leading  and  similar  roles  in  literature,  Richardson 
being  the  first  novelist  to  tell  a  consistent  story  of  the 
life  about  him  in  a  popular  way,  and  La  Chaussee, 
the  first  dramatist  to  unify  the  elements  of  tragedy 
and  comedy  in  plays  dealing  with  persons  and  events 
of  his  own  times,  a  form  that  is  essentially  the  drama 
of  our  day  as  distinguished  from  pure  comedy  and 
boisterous  farce.  Whenever  a  play  of  to-day  makes 
us  both  laugh  and  weep,  or  only  weep,  if  its  charac- 
ters and  scenes  are  familiar,  it  is  a  comedie  larmoy- 
ante,  or  drame,  as  the  French  soon  began  to  style  La 
Chaussee's  dramatic  form.6  Still  there  is  danger  in 

5  Cours  de  litterature. 

6  Goldoni  says  that  his  Pamela  is  "a  drame  according  to  the  French 
definition   of  the  term";   Beaumarchais   states  that  "the  drame  holds  a 
place  between  heroic  tragedy  and  merry  comedy,"  from  which  it  appears 
that  this   term  soon   supplanted  both   comedie   larmoyante   and  tragedie 
bourgeoise  in  describing  this  stage  form. 


EXOTIC  COMEDIES  365 

giving  entire  credit  to  La  Chaussee  for  the  concep- 
tion of  lachrymose  comedy.  His  contemporaries 
proclaimed  him  the  inventor  of  this  form  and  he 
has  been  so  considered  by  succeeding  generations; 
yet  Gustave  Larroumet7  disputes  this  honour  for 
Marivaux,  whom  he  declares  to  be  the  author  .of  "an 
excellent  bourgeois  drama,  without  the  exaggerations 
or  shortcomings  of  either  La  Chaussee  or  Diderot."  8 

This  digression  has  been  necessary  for  a  clearer 
understanding  of  Goldoni's  Pamela  Unmarried,  the 
plot  of  which  was  taken  from  the  earlier  scenes  of 
Richardson's  first  novel ;  for,  in  dramatizing  this  pa- 
thetic story  of  love  and  persecution,  the  characters  of 
which  vary  in  social  degree  from  the  well  born  hero 
to  the  low  born  heroine,  he  was  compelled  by  the  very 
subject  he  had  chosen  to  write  a  comedie  larmoyante, 
or  drame,  such  as  La  Chaussee  had  but  a  little  while 
before  put  upon  the  Parisian  stage.  Moreover, 
Richardson's  text  brought  him  under  the  didactically 
sentimental  influence  of  northern  Europe,  thereby 
making  him  forswear  his  own  naturalism,  his  Pamela 
being  so  unlike  his  spontaneous  and  true  pictures  of 
Venetian  life  that  it  is  difficult  to  recognize  it  as  trie 
work  of  this  painter  of  nature,  so  untrue  are  its  char- 
acters, so  artificial  is  its  language. 

Goldoni's  account  of  Pamela  and  of  the  causes 
that  induced  him  to  write  it,  presents  so  clearly 

7  Mari'vaux,  sa  <vie  et  ses  ceuvres. 

BLa  Mere  confidente  produced  in  1735.  La  Chaussee's  first  play, 
La  Fausse  antipathic,  appeared  two  years  earlier:  Goldoni's  Pamela 
nubile  in  1750. 


366  GOLDONI 

its  stilted  plot  that  it  may  interest,  not  only  as  a  proof 
of  how  far  this  merry  Venetian  had  been  led  away 
from  the  true  path  of  his  genius,  but  as  an  example 
of  his  artless  way  of  talking  about  his  work,  and  of 
the  nervous  and  careless  style  of  his  memoirs  as  well, 
the  paragraphing  and  punctuation  of  the  original  be- 
ing here  retained  intact: 

The  novel  of  Pamela  had  been  for  some  time  delighting  Italy, 
and  my  friends  were  tormenting  me  by  insisting  that  I  should 
make  a  comedy  from  it. 

I  knew  that  work;  I  had  no  difficulty  in  catching  the  spirit  of 
it,  and  would  not  find  it  hard  to  reassemble  its  component  parts; 
but  the  moral  goal  of  the  English  author  did  not  fit  the  laws  and 
manners  of  my  country. 

In  London  a  lord  does  not  disparage  his  nobility  by  marrying 
a  peasant  woman ;  in  Venice  a  patrician  who  weds  a  plebeian  girl, 
deprives  his  children  of  patrician  rank,  and  they  lose  their  right  of 
inheritance. 

Comedy,  which  is  or  should  be  the  school  for  morals,  must  not 
expose  human  foibles  except  to  correct  them,  and  one  is  bound  not 
to  risk  sacrificing  a  helpless  posterity  under  the  guise  of  rewarding 
virtue. 

Therefore  I  had  resisted  the  charm  of  this  novel;  but  seeing 
that  I  must  ever  be  on  the  watch  for  new  material,  and  surrounded 
as  I  was,  both  at  Mantua  and  in  Venice,  by  people  who  urged  me 
to  dramatize  it,  I  consented  willingly  enough. 

I  did  not,  however,  begin  the  work  until  I  had  thought  out  a 
denouement  which,  far  from  being  dangerous,  might  serve  as  a 
model  to  virtuous  lovers  and  at  the  same  time  render  the  catastro- 
phe more  pleasant  and  interesting. 

Pamela  begins  the  play  in  a  scene  with  Jevre  (Mrs.  Jewkes), 
a  former  housekeeper  of  the  family;  she  is  regretting  the  loss  of 
her  mistress,  deceased  a  few  months  before,  and  she  informs  the 
audience  of  her  own  condition.  She  is  a  village  girl  whom  Mi- 
lady had  taken  into  her  household  as  a  chambermaid;  but  whom 


EXOTIC  COMEDIES  367 

she  loved  as  her  own  child,  and  to  whom  she  had  given  an  edu- 
cation above  her  station.  The  conversation  turns  on  the  son  of 
the  deceased  mistress:  Jevre  inspires  Pamela  with  the  hope  that 
Lord  Bonfil  (Mr.  B )  will  not  forget  his  mother's  recom- 
mendations in  regard  to  her:  Pamela  shows  in  broken  words  and 
sighs,  her  inclination  for  her  young  master:  she  wishes  to  leave 
London,  she  wishes  to  go  back  to  the  bosom  of  her  family;  it  is 
the  struggle  between  love  and  virtue. 

In  the  course  of  the  play,  the  young  lord  is  seen  to  burn  with 
the  same  fire  as  Pamela;  she  is  virtuous;  he  makes  efforts  to  sub- 
due her  to  his  wishes;  Pamela  remains  strong,  Milord  is  furious. 

Lady  Dauvre,  Lord  BonfiTs  sister,  notices  the  passion  of  her 
brother;  she  demands  Pamela  from  him;  Bonfil  hesitates  at  first; 
he  consents,  then  withdraws  his  consent;  he  imprisons  Pamela;  he 
is  greatly  agitated. 

Lord  Arthur,  his  friend,  comes  to  see  him ;  he  notices  his  grief ; 
he  tries  to  cheer  him;  he  proposes  three  different  matches  to  him; 
Bonfil  does  not  think  them  to  his  liking. 

Another  scene  takes  place  between  these  two  friends,  which  is 
a  sort  of  discussion  on  the  choice  of  a  wife,  on  English  liberty,  and 
on  the  drawbacks  of  marriages  unequal  in  regard  to  property. 

This  last  point  makes  an  impression  on  BonfiPs  mind;  he  is 
struck  with  it,  but  he  cannot  make  up  his  mind  to  give  up  Pamela. 

The  latter  had  written  to  her  father,  and  had  told  him  of  her 
embarrassing  position  and  her  fears:  this  father  arrives;  he  intro- 
duces himself  to  Milord  and  demands  his  daughter;  Milord  re- 
fuses to  give  her  back  to  him;  Andreuve  (this  is  the  old  man's 
name)  asks  Milord  seriously  what  his  views  are  in  regard  to  his 
daughter:  Milord  acknowledges  his  passion;  he  loves  Pamela;  and 
would  only  be  too  happy  if  he  could  make  her  his  wife;  it  is  not 
interestedness  that  restrains  him;  it  is  his  condition,  his  birth. 
The  old  man  touched  by  the  sentiments  of  Milord,  and  seeing 
his  opportunity  to  establish  his  daughter's  happiness,  confides  to 
him  his  secret;  Andreuve  is  not  his  name;  he  is  the  Count  of 
Auspingh,  a  Scotchman,  who,  during  the  revolutions  in  that  king- 
dom, was  counted  as  one  of  the  rebels  against  the  British  Crown, 
he  escaped  over  the  mountains,  and  bought  with  the  little  money 
which  he  had  left  enough  land  to  cultivate  and  to  live  upon;  he 


368  GOLDONI 

has  proofs  of  his  former  station,  and  quotes  living  witnesses  who 
can  identify  him. 

Milord  Bonfil  examines  the  papers,  sees  the  witnesses,  solicits 
the  pardon  of  the  outlawed  man,  and  obtains  it  without  difficulty; 
he  marries  Pamela;  behold  virtue  rewarded,  and  the  proprieties 
saved. 

The  most  singular  thing  about  this  play,  is  that  after  the  recog- 
nition scene,9  where,  according  to  the  rules  of  the  art,  the  action 
should  terminate,  there  are  ten  scenes,  which  instead  of  boring 
people,  amuse  as  much  as  the  preceding  ones,  and  perhaps  still 
more. 

Pamela  does  not  know  what  has  happened  between  Bonfil  and 
her  father;  she  does  not  know  of  her  new  station  in  life,  she  is 
ready  to  leave  her  lover;  he  takes  pleasure  in  teasing  her:  he  is 
going  to  be  married :  he  will  marry  the  Countess  of  Auspingh ;  he 
praises  her:  Pamela  suffers,  her  father  arrives,  he  encourages  her 
to  embrace  Milord:  Pamela  is  at  sea;  an  attempt  is  made  to  ex- 
plain the  situation  to  her;  she  cannot  believe  the  thing  possible; 
Jevre  salutes  her  as  her  mistress,  Lady  Dauvre  calls  to  pay  her 
respects:  at  last  Pamela  is  assured  of  her  happiness:  she  remains 
modest  and  grateful;  she  is  changed  in  station,  but  not  in  char- 
acter. 

Until  now  I  have  not  mentioned  a  personage  who  enlivens  the 
seriousness  of  the  play  considerably ;  this  is  the  Chevalier  Ernold,10 
a  nephew  of  Lady  Dauvre,  a  young  Englishman  who  has  just  re- 
turned from  a  trip  through  Europe,  and  who,  for  lack  of  princi- 
ples and  instruction,  has  brought  back  with  him  all  the  ridiculous 
mannerisms  current  in  the  countries  through  which  he  has  trav- 
elled. 

The  only  scene  in  this  old-fashioned  comedy  drama 

9  A  scene  in  •which  the  position  of  the  persons  concerned  in  the  action 
is  changed  with  regard  to  one  another  by  the  unexpected  revival  of  an 
old   and  unimportant  relation  between  them,  unknown  theretofore,  and 
which  produces  friendship — or  hate — between  the  persons.     The  French 
text  has  agnition   (Latin  agnitio,  from  agnoscere),  a  rare  word  now  re- 
placed by  reconnaissance.    Aristotle  calls  such  a  scene  the  anagnorisis. 

10  The  spelling  "Hernold"  of  the  Memoirs  has  been  changed  to  "Er- 
nold" to  conform  with  the  spelling  in  the  play. 


EXOTIC  COMEDIES  369 

which  is  illuminated  by  the  light  of  Goldoni's  mirth- 
ful genius  occurs  when  the  shallow  and  affected 
Chevalier  Ernold  of  whom  he  here  speaks,  calls  on 
Lord  Bonfil,  and  finding  him  taking  tea  with  his 
friends,  Lord  Arthur  and  Lord  Coubrech,  thus  turns 
the  conversation  to  his  own  travels : 

ERNOLD 

I  can't  stay  in  London  any  more.  Oh,  what  a  fine  thing  travel 
is !  How  delightful  to  change  from  one  country  or  nation  to  an- 
other; to-day  here,  to-morrow  there,  seeing  the  magnificent  enter- 
tainments, the  splendid  courts,  the  abundance  of  merchandise,  the 
crowds  of  people,  the  sumptuousness  of  the  buildings.  What 
would  you  have  me  do  in  London? 

ARTHUR 

London  is  not  a  city  that  need  give  way  so  easily  to  another. 

ERNOLD 

Oh,  pardon  me;  you  know  nothing  about  it.  You  have  not 
seen  Paris,  Madrid,  Rome,  Lisbon,  Vienna,  Florence,  Milan,  Ven- 
ice. Believe  me  you  know  nothing  about  it. 

BONFIL 

A  prudent  traveller  never  runs  down  his  own  country.  Cheva- 
lier, will  you  take  tea? 

ERNOLD 

No,  thank  you;  I've  drunk  chocolate.  In  Spain  they  drink 
delicious  chocolate.  Also  in  Italy  its  use  is  rather  common,  but 
without  vanilla,  or  at  least  with  very  little  vanilla,  and  above  all 
other  cities  Milan  excels  in  this  respect.  In  Venice  they  drink 
exquisite  coffee,  genuine  Alexandrian  coffee,  and  they  make  it 
there  to  perfection.  Then,  Naples  carries  off  the  palm  with  its 
sherbets;  they  have  exquisite  flavours;  and  what  is  important  for 
the  health,  they  are  made  with  snow,  not  with  ice.  Every  city 
has  its  peculiar  preeminence:  Vienna  is  noted  for  its  great  en- 
tertainments, and  Paris — oh,  my  dear  Paris! — for  its  gallantry, 
its  love-making.  How  delightful  to  meet  without  raising  prudish 


370  GOLDONI 

suspicions!  How  delightful  to  love  without  the  demon  of  jeal- 
ousy! Festivals  always,  gardens  everywhere,  amusements,  pas- 
times, and  dancing  for  ever !  Oh,  what  lovely  people !  Oh,  what 
pleasures,  surpassing  all  the  pleasures  in  the  world! 

BONFIL 

(Calls.)     Ho,  there! 

ISACCO  (a  servant) 

Yes,  sir. 

BONFIL 

Bring  the  chevalier  a  glass  of  water. 

ERNOLD 

Why  do  you  order  a  glass  of  water  for  me? 

BONFIL 

I  fear  that  so  much  talking  has  dried  your  throat. 

ERNOLD 

No,   no;  spare  yourself  the  trouble.     Since  I  left  London,  I 
have  learned  how  to  talk. 

BONFIL 
It's  easier  to  learn  to  talk  than  to  be  silent. 

ERNOLD 

It's  not  so  easy  to  learn  to  talk  well. 

BONFIL 

But  he  who  talks  too  much  cannot  always  talk  well. 

ERNOLD 

My  dear  sir,  you  have  not  travelled. 

BONFIL 

And  you  make  me  lose  the  wish  to  travel. 

ERNOLD 

Why? 

BONFIL 

Because  I  fear  I  also  should  acquire  prejudices. 

ERNOLD 

A  remarkable  prejudice  is  the  display  which  some  people  make 
of  rigorous  gravity.     A  man  should  be  sociable,  agreeable.     The 


EXOTIC  COMEDIES  371 

world  is  made  for  those  who  know  how  to  understand  it,  for  those 
who  know  how  to  enjoy  its  honest  pleasures.  What  is  the  use 
of  your  gloom?  If  you  are  talking  you  say  ten  words  an  hour; 
if  you  take  a  walk,  more  often  than  not  you  like  to  be  alone;  if 
you  make  love,  you  want  to  be  understood  without  speaking;  if 
you  go  to  the  theatre  where  grand  opera  is  given,  you  go  there  to 
weep,  and  you  are  allured  only  by  the  pathetic  song  that  excites 
hypochondria.  English  comedies  are  critical,  instructive,  full  of 
fine  characters,  good  sallies  of  wit;  but  they  do  not  arouse  laugh- 
ter. In  Italy  at  least  you  may  enjoy  delightful  and  witty  com- 
edies. Oh,  if  you  could  see  what  a  fine  mask  Harlequin  is!  It 
is  a  sin  that  we  Englishmen  will  not  endure  the  mask  on  the 
London  stage.  If  Harlequin  could  be  introduced  into  our  com- 
edies, it  would  be  the  most  delightful  thing  in  the  world!  This 
fellow  represents  a  stupid  servant,  but  at  the  same  time  an  astute 
one.  He  wears  a  very  funny  mask,  is  dressed  in  a  suit  of  many 
colours,  and  makes  you  split  your  sides  with  laughing.  Believe 
me,  friends;  if  you  saw  him  you  would  be  forced  to  laugh  in  spite 
of  all  your  gravity.  He  says  some  very  witty  things.  Just  listen 
to  some  of  the  witticisms  I  have  remembered:  Instead  of  patron, 
he  says  poltroon;  and  instead  of  doctor,  he  says  dolorus.  He  calls 
a  bonnet  a  bell,  and  a  letter  a  litter.  He  is  always  talking  about 
eating,  and  is  saucy  to  all  the  women.  He  beats  his  master  hor- 
ribly. 

ARTHUR 
(Rises.)     My  lord  and  friends,  good-bye.     (Exit.) 

ERNOLD 

Are  you  going?  I've  just  remembered  a  delightful  one  which 
can't  help  making  you  laugh.  One  evening,  in  a  single  comedy, 
Harlequin,  in  order  to  deceive  an  old  man  whose  name  was  Panta- 
loon, transformed  himself  into  a  Moor,  a  moving  statue,  and  a 
skeleton,  and  at  the  end  of  all  his  knavery  he  treated  the  good  old 
man  to  a  drubbing. 

COUBRECH 

(Rises.)  My  friend,  by  your  leave;  I  cannot  endure  any  more. 
(Exit.) 


372  GOLDONI 

ERNOLD 

(To  Bonfil.)  Now  you  see  what  it  means  not  to  have  trav- 
elled. 

BONFIL 

Chevalier,  if  that  makes  you  laugh,  I  don't  know  what  to  think 
of  you.  You  can't  make  me  believe  that  in  Italy  sensible  men 
laugh  at  such  tomfoolery.  Laughter  is  natural  to  man,  but  all 
men  don't  laugh  for  the  same  reason.  There  is  worthy  fun  aroused 
by  word-play,  sharp  sallies,  or  witty  and  brilliant  conceits.  There 
is  base  laughter,  born  of  scurrility  and  stupidity.  Allow  me  to 
speak  to  you  with  the  freedom  with  which  a  kinsman,  a  friend, 
may  speak.  You  have  travelled  prematurely;  your  travels  should 
have  been  preceded  by  the  best  of  studies:  history,  chronology, 
sketching,  mathematics,  and  good  philosophy  are  the  branches  of 
knowledge  necessary  to  a  traveller.  Chevalier,  if  you  had  studied 
them  before  leaving  London,  your  mind  would  not  have  been  ar- 
rested by  the  entertainments  of  Vienna,  the  gallantry  of  Paris,  the 
harlequinades  of  Italy.  (Exit.) 

ERNOLD 

My  lord,  you  don't  know  what  is  proper  to  say;  you  say  that 
because  you  have  not  travelled.  (Exit.)  11 

Aside  from  its  literary  interest  as  a  dramatization 
of  the  first  popular  novel,  couched  in  a  dramatic  form 
that  has  been  used  by  nearly  every  subsequent  writer 
of  serious  prose  drama,  Pamela  is  noteworthy  be- 
cause of  the  unusual  boldness  displayed  by  timid 
Goldoni  in  attacking  the  social  problems  of  his  day. 
To  quote  Professor  Ortolani : 


12 


The  great  problem  of  the  eighteenth  century,  whether  or  not 
the  social  privilege  of  birth  and  blood  should  prevail  over  natural 
laws,  was  here  put  into  action  and  solved,  at  least  in  the  minds  of 
the  spectators.  Pamela  conquered;  Bonfil  was  unable  either  to 

11  Act  I,  Scene   16. 

12  Opere  complete  di  Carlo  Goldoni,  Vol.  V,  nota  storica. 


EXOTIC  COMEDIES  373 

seduce  or  banish  her;  Madame  Jevre  ingenuously  anticipated  the 
theories  of  J.  J.  Rousseau,  the  public  wept  and  applauded. 

The  passage  in  which  Rousseau  is  heralded  is  per- 
haps the  most  remarkable  to  be  found  in  any  of  Gol- 
doni's  comedies,  since  even  before  the  Citizen  of 
Geneva  began  to  voice  the  rights  of  man,13  this  Vene- 
tian bourgeois,  whose  conservatism  is  so  frequently  ex- 
pressed by  his  hide-bound  Pantalone,  placed  the  fol- 
lowing radical  sentiments  on  the  lips  of  lord  Bon- 
fil's  housekeeper,  in  a  scene  in  which  she  discusses 
with  a  friend  of  that  nobleman  her  master's  inten- 
tions of  marrying  the  virtuous  Pamela: 


14 


That  one  should  die  to  preserve  one's  honour  I  understand,  but 
that  it  should  be  a  dishonour  to  marry  a  poor  but  honest  girl  I 
do  not  see  at  all.  I  have  often  heard  it  said  that  the  world  would 
be  more  beautiful  if  it  had  not  been  spoiled  by  men,  who  for  the 
sake  of  pride  have  upset  the  beautiful  order  of  Nature.  That 
common  mother  regards  us  all  as  equal,  though  the  arrogance  of 
the  great  does  not  deign  to  consider  the  small.  The  day  will 
come,  however,  when  one  pudding  will  again  be  made  of  both 
great  and  small. 

Nowhere  in  his  comedies  does  Moliere  express 
such  radical  sentiments  as  these,  for  in  his  day  in- 
equality was  accepted  as  an  unalterable  law  of  na- 
ture. That  peaceful  Goldoni  should  have  uttered 
a  doctrine  so  revolutionary  long  before  he  had  met 

13  Pamela    (1750)    was  presented  the   same  year   in  which  was   pub- 
lished Rousseau's  first  dlscours   (Si  le  retablissement  des  sciences  et  des 
arts  a  contribue  a  epurer  les  maeurs),  but  his  discours,  Sur  I'origine  et 
les  fondements  de  I'inegalite  parmi  les  hommes  was  not  published  until 
1755,  and  the  Contrat  social  not  until  1762. 

14  Act  III,  Scene  3. 


374  GOLDONI 

either  Rousseau  or  Voltaire,  or  been  brought  directly 
under  French  influence — uttered  it,  too,  in  a  Vene- 
tian theatre  where  the  patricians  spat  from  their  boxes 
upon  the  vulgar  herd  below  in  the  pit,  is  an  astound- 
ing fact  that  baffles  all  explanation,  unless  it  be  that 
he  had  read  Voltaire's  Nanine,  a  play  also  founded 
upon  Richardson's  Pamela,  in  which  the  Sage  of 
Ferney  voices  the  following  democratic  views: 


THE   COUNT 


You  like  magnificence;  you  think  that  greatness 
Lies  in  armorial  bearings:  its  abode 
I  seek  within  the  heart.  .  .  . 

THE    BARONESS 

Do  you  owe  nothing,  please  you,  sir,  to  rank? 

THE    COUNT 

My  duty  lies  in  being  a  gentleman. 

THE    BARONESS 

My  birth  demands  a  higher  character. 

THE   COUNT 

Mine's  higher  still:  it  braves  the  vulgar  crowd. 

THE    BARONESS 

You'd  strip  us  even  of  our  quality. 

THE    COUNT 

Nay;  thus  I'd  dignify  our  humankind.15 

Goldoni  expresses  these  very  sentiments  in  Pamela, 
when  the  virtuous  heroine  says  to  her  master:  "No- 
ble blood  is  an  accident  of  birth;  noble  actions  char- 

15  Nanine,  Act  I,  Scene  i. 


EXOTIC  COMEDIES  375 

acterize  the  nobleman."  Indeed,  as  Signer  Falchi 
justly  exclaims,  "What  is  there  in  Voltaire's  declara- 
tions that  is  not  to  be  found  in  Pamela's  words,  and 
how  far  removed  are  Voltaire's  words  from  the  con- 
cise revolutionary  conception  Goldoni  presented  in 
Madame  Jevre's  speech!"16  Three  or  four  years 
later  Goldoni  gave  utterance  to  radical  views,  yet 
only  in  a  satirical  vein.17  In  Pamela,  however,  he 
appears  as  the  sincere  tribune  of  humanity,  albeit 
only  in  a  speech  or  two  of  this  super-sentimental  com- 
edy. 

Indeed,  aside  from  its  historical  interest  and  its 
outburst  of  radicalism,  there  is  little  in  Pamela  Un- 
married to  hold  the  modern  reader's  attention,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  Signor  Galanti  calls  it  "a  true 
jewel,"  18  and  Professor  Ortolan!  pronounces  its  hero- 
ine "such  a  sweet  and  delicate  girlish  figure  that  she 
deserves  a  place  of  her  own  on  the  stage."  19  Her 
place  is  rather  in  the  museum  of  literary  antiques, 
where  the  student  may  view  her  in  a  leisurely  way, 
while  he  who  seeks  diversion  may  pass  her  by  hastily, 
wondering  meantime  how  such  a  smug  little  Miss  In- 
nocence could  have  amused  the  people  of  even  a  by- 
gone day.  She  was  not  conceived  by  Goldoni,  and 
sentimental  didacticism  was  not  his  natural  bent;  else 
his  fame  would  now  be  dimmed  by  that  of  La  Chaus- 
see,  whose  lachrymose  style  he  emulated  in  this  in- 

16  Op.  cit. 

17 //  Filosofo  inglese. 

18  Op.  cit. 

19  Opere  complete  di  Carlo  Goldoni.    Vol.  V,  nota  storlca. 


376  GOLDONI 

stance,  even  though  he  did  not,  like  Diderot,  proclaim 
it  as  his  own  invention.20 

In  Pamela  Married  (Pamela  maritata),  the  play 
Goldoni  wrote  nine  years  later  for  the  actors  of  the 
Capranica  theatre  in  Rome,  he  presents  the  matri- 
monial troubles  of  Richardson's  sentimental  heroine; 
Lord  BonfiPs  jealousy  of  his  friend  Lord  Arthur,  in- 
cited by  that  travelled  bore,  the  Chevalier  Ernold, 
because  he  had  been  soundly  snubbed  by  Pamela,  be- 
ing the  thread  on  which  hangs  an  attenuated  plot. 
Goldoni  says  that  "this  play  had  more  study  and 
finesse  than  Pamela  Unmarried,  but  the  latter  had 
more  interest  and  action,  the  one  being  written  for 
the  theatre,  the  other  for  the  closet,"  an  opinion  with 
which  one  has  no  desire  to  quarrel,  virtuous  Pamela's 
married  adventures,  like  those  of  virtuous  Bettina,21 
being  less  interesting  by  far  than  the  events  which  led 
to  her  marriage. 

Some  years  after  the  production  of  Pamela  Unmar- 
ried, Goldoni  placed  upon  the  Venetian  boards  A 
Curious  Mishap  (Un  Curioso  accidente),  an  exotic 
comedy  inspired,  he  informs  us,  by  "a  strange  and 
amusing  adventure"  that  happened  to  a  prominent 
Dutch  merchant,  the  facts  of  which  were  told  him 
by  this  merchant's  Venetian  correspondents.  The 
story  of  this  play  concerns  the  secret  love  of  Lieuten- 
ant de  la  Cotterie,  a  wounded  French  prisoner  of  war, 

20  Diderot's  "serious  and  moral"  drama   (Le  genre  serieux  et  honnete) 
was  in  form,  at  least,  merely  the  comedie  larmoyante  of  La  Chaussee, 
though  its  sermons  were  preached  even  more  didactically. 

21  In  La  Buona  moglie,  the  sequel  to  La  Putta  onorata. 


EXOTIC  COMEDIES  377 

for  Giannina,  daughter  of  a  merchant  of  The  Hague 
named  Filiberto,  in  whose  hospitable  house  the 
Frenchman  lodges  during  his  convalescence. 

Far  from  suspecting  the  havoc  Cupid  has  played 
in  his  household,  Filiberto,  hoodwinked  by  the  lieu- 
tenant's valet  in  regard  to  the  true  state  of  affairs, 
plots  to  marry  his  French  guest  to  Costanza,  the 
daughter  of  a  fellow-merchant  named  Riccardo, 
whose  ingratitude  for  the  start  in  life  he  once  gave 
him  makes  Filiberto  relish  the  notion  of  stealing  his 
antagonist's  daughter  from  under  his  nose.  Cos- 
tanza loves  the  lieutenant,  so  she  falls  a  willing  dupe 
to  the  plan.  As  the  real  lovers  dare  not  avow  their 
love,  they  pretend  to  acquiesce  in  fulfilling  it,  Gian- 
nina in  particular  torturing  both  the  lieutenant  and 
Costanza  by  her  clever  dissembling.  Meanwhile 
Filiberto  beards  Riccardo,  and  upon  his  refusal  to 
let  his  daughter  marry  a  penniless  Frenchman,  ad- 
monishes that  officer  to  marry  the  girl  he  loves  with- 
out her  father's  consent,  and  actually  lends  him 
money  for  that  purpose.  He  soon  rues  this  advice, 
for  when  his  daughter  hears  from  his  own  lips  that 
he  has  counselled  M.  de  la  Cotterie  to  wed  in  spite 
of  a  father's  opposition,  she  promptly  goes  off  to  the 
house  of  an  aunt  and  marries  him  herself,  thus  ad- 
ministering to  Filiberto  the  very  medicine  he  has 
prescribed  for  a  rival  in  business,  whose  subsequent 
gloating  piques  him  into  forgiving  his  wayward  child. 
/  Although  the  scene  of  A  Curious  Mishap  is  laid  in 
/Holland,  it  is  purely  a  comedy  of  intrigue  con- 


378  GOLDONI 

structed  upon  conventional  lines,  in  which  there  is  no 
atmospheric  fidelity  or  naturalistic  characterization, 
such  as  Goldoni  presents  so  frequently  in  his  Vene- 
tian comedies^  Yet  its  plot  is  so  cleverly  woven  and 
its  tale  of  love's  triumph  so  sympathetic  that  it  still 
holds  the  interest  of  an  audience;  for,  when  it  was 
presented  a  few  years  ago  (1907-1908)  in  Chicago 
and  throughout  the  northwestern  States  by  Mr.  Don- 
ald Robertson,  this  excellent  actor  found  that  it  inter- 
ested the  average  play-goer  more  than  any  of  the 
plays  of  Moliere,  Calderon,  Ibsen,  Browning,  and 
others,  presented  by  him  at  that  time.  When  A  Cu- 
rious Mishap  was  played  in  France,  however,  during 
its  author's  lifetime,  it  proved  a  failure,  an  undutiful 
daughter  being  antipathetic  in  France,  and  a  mar- 
riage on  the  spur  of  the  moment  impossible  in  a  coun- 
try where,  both  legally  and  sentimentally,  parents  are 
honoured  more  rigorously  than  elsewhere.  That 
Goldoni  was  himself  doubtful  of  the  moral  effect  of 
this  play,  even  in  Italy,  is  shown  when  the  heroine, 
after  obtaining  parental  forgiveness  for  her  runaway 
marriage  and  confessing  that  she  has  exceeded  the 
limits  of  duty  and  family  respect,  asks  the  "kind  spec- 
tators" not  to  follow  her  bad  example,  but  to  "let  the 
fruits  of  the  performance  be  a  warning  to  their  fam- 
ilies." 

In  The  Scotch  Girl  (La  Scozzese),  the  fourth  of 
his  exotic  comedies  in  prose,  written  in  1761,  Goldoni 
appears  as  an  adapter,  the  original  inspiration  being, 
as  he  frankly  acknowledges,  Voltaire's  come  die  lar- 


EXOTIC  COMEDIES  379 

moyante  of  the  same  name  (L'Ecossaise) ,  produced 
in  Paris  during  the  previous  year.  Indeed,  Voltaire's 
piece  proved  so  popular  that  three  Venetian  versions 
were  presented  almost  simultaneously.  Of  these, 
Goldoni's  alone  was  successful,  a  bit  of  good  fortune 
due  to  his  knowledge  of  stage-craft,  his  piece  being 
dramatically  superior  to  its  original. 

In  Voltaire's  romantic  comedy,  Lindane,  the  hero- 
ine, is  the  daughter  of  a  Scotch  nobleman,  whose  fa- 
ther had  fled  from  Scotland  years  before  the  play 
begins  because  of  a  charge  of  treason  malevolently 
brought  against  him  by  a  lifelong  enemy.  Coming 
to  London  in  search  of  her  father,  Lindane  lodges  at 
good  Maitre  Fabrice's  inn,  where  she  is  tenderly 
cared  for  by  the  innkeeper  and  his  wife,  and  where 
she  meets  and  falls  in  love  with  Lord  Murray,  the 
son  of  her  father's  enemy,  and  is  loved  by  him.  Al- 
though this  young  nobleman,  on  learning  the  identity 
of  his  inamorata,  seeks  to  right  the  wrong  his  dead 
father  had  done,  Voltaire's  dramaturgy  is  so  clumsy 
that  he  does  not  permit  this  hero  to  appear  until  the 
fourth  act  of  the  play.  Meanwhile  a  letter  he  has 
written  to  Lindane  telling  her  of  his  constant  affec- 
tion for  her,  is  intercepted  by  Lady  Alton,  a  jealous 
villainess  who  not  only  convinces  Lindane  of  Lord 
Murray's  infidelity,  but  with  the  aid  of  the  false  tes- 
timony of  Frelon,  a  pamphleteer,  succeeds  in  obtain- 
ing a  warrant  for  her  Scotch  rival's  arrest  as  a  trea- 
sonable suspect.  Meeting  the  police  officer  who 
comes  to  serve  it,  Freeport,  a  worthy  merchant,  goes 


380  GOLDONI 

surety  for  Lindane  and  obtains  her  release  on  bail 
without  her  knowing  the  danger  that  has  threatened 
her.  In  the  meantime,  her  father  arrives  at  the  inn, 
bent  on  revenge  for  the  wrongs  that  have  befallen 
him  at  the  hands  of  the  elder  Lord  Murray.  Meet- 
ing by  chance  the  fair  countrywoman  who  is  his 
fellow-lodger,  he  questions  her  and  learns  that  she 
is  his  daughter;  whereupon  young  Lord  Murray  ap- 
pears and  convinces  Lindane  of  his  fidelity.  The  fa- 
ther, on  learning  the  young  nobleman's  identity, 
draws  his  sword  to  attack  him,  but  instead  of  defend- 
ing himself,  Murray  throws  away  his  weapon  and 
pulls  from  his  pocket  the  pardon  for  his  opponent 
which  he  has  obtained  from  the  King,  this  act  of 
magnanimity  bringing  tears  of  gratitude  to  the  pro- 
scribed Scotchman's  eyes,  and  a  happy  termination  to 
the  play. 

Goldoni  retained  the  essential  elements  of  Vol- 
taire's story,  yet  built  a  more  coherent  play,  his  wider 
dramatic  experience  having  taught  him  the  value  of 
what  the  late  M.  Sarcey  called  scenes  a  faire,  or  neces- 
sary scenes  that  must  be  acted  and  not  related  in  nar- 
rative by  the  actors.  Thus,  instead  of  making  the  love 
of  Lord  Murray  and  Lindane  a  fact  told  the  audience 
when  the  play  begins,  the  Venetian  shows  this  love 
in  its  contrariety  as  well  as  in  its  culmination,  he  be- 
ing too  deft  a  dramatist  to  repeat  Voltaire's  amateur- 
ish mistake  of  leaving  the  romance  of  a  romantic  play 
to  the  imagination  of  his  audience.  Moreover,  with 
perhaps  the  single  exception  of  Frelon,  whom  Vol- 


EXOTIC  COMEDIES  381 

taire  conceived  con  odio  to  satirize  his  journalistic 
enemy  Freron,  and  therefore  drew  trenchantly,  Gol- 
doni's  characters  are  more  thoroughly  and  consist- 
ently developed,  his  play  being  humanely  as  well  as 
technically  superior  to  its  prototype.  Still,  howso- 
ever commendable  his  version  is  as  a  piece  of  stage 
carpentry,  it  is  at  best  a  play  outside  the  pale  of  his 
peculiar  genius,  and,  like  Pamela,  made  interesting 
chiefly  by  its  historical  relation  to  eighteenth  century 
literature. 

Although  Goldoni  frankly  acknowledged  that  his 
Scotch  Girl  was  merely  an  Italian  version  of  Vol- 
taire's play,  and  did  not  so  much  as  hint  that  the  latter 
had  shown  an  undue  familiarity  with  his  own  come- 
dies, Freron,  the  pamphleteer,  satirized  by  Voltaire 
under  the  thinly  disguised  name  of  Frelon,  charged 
this  bitter  enemy  with  having  plagiarized  his  play, 
largely  from  The  Cavalier  and  the  Lady  and 
The  Coffee-House.  It  is  true  that  certain  elements 
of  these  comedies  appear  in  the  French  piece,  the 
scene,  for  instance,  being  the  London  coffee-house  of 
Maitre  Fabrice,  an  honest  innkeeper  with  a  heart  as 
kind  as  that  of  Ridolfo,  his  Venetian  prototype.  Lin- 
dane,  too,  the  Scotch  heroine,  is  as  virtuous  and  proud 
as  Donna  Leonora,  the  heroine  of  The  Cavalier  and 
the  Lady;  and  although  she  is  the  daughter  instead 
of  the  wife  of  a  proscribed  nobleman,  like  Leonora, 
too,  she  supports  her  faithful  maid  and  herself  by  her 
needle,  and  is  too  proud  to  accept  financial  aid  from 
either  Lord  Murray,  a  lover  as  faultless  as  Don  Ro- 


382  GOLDONI 

drigo,  the  cavalier  of  Goldoni's  play,  or  Freeport,  a 
worthy  English  merchant  who  finds  surreptitious 
means  of  aiding  her,  like  the  Anselmo  of  Goldoni. 
Moreover,  Frelon,  the  pamphleteer  of  evil  tongue, 
who  makes  Fabrice's  coffee-house  the  headquarters 
for  his  malice  and  plotting,  although  he  was  immedi- 
ately recognized  by  Parisians  as  a  satire  upon  Freron, 
is  certainly  suggestive  of  Don  Marzio,  the  mischie- 
vous busy-body  of  The  Coffee-House.  Moreover,  be- 
cause "journalists  were  rare  in  Italy  and  the  police 
prevented  them  from  being  mischievous,"  Goldoni 
in  writing  his  version  of  Voltaire's  play  made  Mon- 
sieur la  Cloche,  as  he  calls  the  character  correspond- 
ing to  Freron,  a  gossipy  meddler  similar  to  Don 
Marzio.  In  the  metamorphosis,  however,  he  cur- 
tails him  from  a  person  of  considerable  importance 
in  the  unfolding  of  the  plot  to  a  mere  character-bit 
entirely  subservient  to  Lady  Alton,  the  villainess,  a 
woman,  by  the  way,  quite  as  worldly  and  unprincipled 
as  Donna  Claudia  and  the  other  birds  of  fashion  in 
The  Cavalier  and  the  Lady.  Yet,  striking  as  the  re- 
semblance is  between  some  of  the  characters  of  Vol- 
taire's Scotch  Girl  and  those  to  be  found  in  two  of 
Goldoni's  comedies,  the  former's  story  is  sufficiently 
new  to  absolve  him  from  the  charge  of  direct  plagiar- 
ism, the  most  that  may  be  said  being  that  he  con- 
ceived his  play  after  having  read  Goldoni. 

Bathetic  romanticism  such  as  is  to  be  found  in  The 
Scotch  Girl  is  so  alien  to  Goldoni's  genius  that  it  is  a 
pleasure  to  turn  to  his  three  comedies  of  army  life, 


EXOTIC  COMEDIES  383 

all  of  which  were  inspired  by  his  own  experience  and 
observation.  Although  they  are  not  precisely  exotic 
in  character,  they  paint  neither  the  life  of  the  aristoc- 
racy, the  bourgeoisie,  nor  the  proletariat  of  Venice; 
therefore  they  fall  more  within  the  province  of  this 
chapter  than  within  that  of  any  other  of  the  present 
work,  so  that  a  word  here  regarding  them  should  not 
be  amiss. 

The  Swindler  (L'Impostore)  ?  one  of  these  military 
plays,  was  intended,  so  Goldoni  says,  to  "efface  from 
his  mind  the  blackness  a  rascal's  wickedness  had  im- 
printed there,"  its  protagonist  being  a  portrait  of  the 
Ragusan  captain,  who  had  fleeced  him  out  of  six  thou- 
sand livres  under  the  pretence  of  raising  a  regiment 
for  foreign  service.  In  his  memoirs,  he  states  that 
he  wrote  this  comedy  for  use  in  a  Jesuit  college  at 
Venice,  while  he  tarried  in  Bologna  during  the  sum- 
mer of  1743,  after  being  forced  to  leave  his  native  city 
largely  because  of  the  Ragusan's  rascality,  yet  Pro- 
fessor Maddalena  maintains 22  that  more  than  ten 
years  elapsed  between  the  time  of  his  duplicity  and 
his  portrayal  upon  the  stage,  Goldoni  having  appar- 
ently used  considerable  poetic  license  in  his  memoirs, 
in  order  to  heighten  the  dramatic  effect  of  the  tale. 

Howsoever  this  may  be,  The  Swindler  is  a  pica- 
resque comedy,  in  which  the  four  Venetian  masks  ap- 
pear, Orazio  Sbocchia,  the  swindler  who  gives  it  a 
name,  being  a  military  deserter  drawn  from  the  rascal 
who  had  defrauded  its  author,  all  the  details  of  the 

22  Opere  complete  di  Carlo  Goldoni.    Vol.  IX,  nota  storica. 


384  GOLDONI 

swindle  being  set  forth  in  the  play,  although  the  cheat, 
instead  of  escaping,  is  arrested  and  handed  over  to 
the  authorities.  It  was  written,  Goldoni  tells  us, 
"with  all  the  warmth  his  indignation  could  possibly 
inspire,"  neither  his  brother  being  spared,  "whom  he 
portrayed  in  vivid  colours,"  nor  himself,  "whose  sim- 
plicity he  clothed  with  all  the  ridicule  it  deserved." 
The  play  is  slight,  however,  in  dramatic  fibre,  its 
merit  lying  mainly  in  its  amusing  lazzi,  wherein 
Brighella,  a  pretended  sergeant,  chouses  Arlecchino, 
an  innkeeper,  out  of  food  and  drink  for  himself  and 
the  yokels  he  has  induced  to  enlist  in  Orazio  Sboc- 
chia's  fictitious  regiment.  Indeed,  it  is  interesting 
chiefly  because  of  its  biographical  aspect  and  the  fact 
that  it  is  a  play  without  a  female  part;  for,  although 
rich  Pantalone's  daughter  is  sought  in  marriage  by 
the  protagonist,  she  does  not  appear.  Goldoni  thus 
thoroughly  fulfilled  his  agreement  to  write  "a  com- 
edy for  a  Jesuit  school,  without  a  female  role  and 
adaptable  to  military  exercises  on  the  part  of  the  stu- 
dents." 

As  its  name  implies,  The  Military  Lover 
(IL'Amante  militare)  tells  a  story  of  love  and  war, 
its  hero,  Don  Alonso,  being  a  young  Spanish  ensign 
who  has  lost  his  heart  to  Rosaura,  the  daughter  of 
Pantalone,  a  worthy  merchant  in  whose  house  he  is 
quartered.  The  villain  is  Don  Garzia,  a  profligate 
brother-officer,  who,  besides  jilting  an  adoring 
widow,  makes  love  to  every  wearer  of  a  petticoat  that 
crosses  his  path,  and  so  insults  Rosaura  with  his  cava- 


EXOTIC  COMEDIES  385 

Her  attentions  that  Don  Alonso  challenges  him. 
Their  duel  results  in  this  hero's  arrest,  together  with 
the  loss  of  his  quarters  in  the-house  of  his  inamorata, 
his  enemy  being  installed  there  in  his  stead  by  order 
of  the  commanding  general.  Upon  regaining  his 
freedom  Don  Alonso  again  provokes  Don  Garzia; 
but,  though  that  wretch's  pistol  misses  fire,  he  gener- 
ously spares  his  life.  When  peace  is  declared  and  the 
troops  depart  for  home,  Don  Alonso  resigns  his  com- 
mission to  wed  the  faithful  Rosaura,  astute  Panta- 
lone,  her  father,  being  averse  to  a  military  son-in- 
law  who  will  desert  the  hearthside  whenever  duty 
calls. 

"I  painted  in  Don  Alonso,"  Goldoni  tells  us,  "the 
upright  and  intelligent  officers  I  had  known,  and  in 
Don  Garzia  I  copied  those  who  permit  themselves 
the  heedlessness  of  youth,"  Don  Garzia,  to  quote  his 
own  words,  being  "a  lover  of  women,  friends,  horses, 
the  bottle,  good  living,  and  a  hundred  other  things." 
Yet,  well  contrasted  as  are  the  hero  and  villain  of 
this  comedy,  its  author's  real  genius  shines  only  in  the 
lazzi  between  Brighel'la,  a  hectoring  sergeant,  and 
Arlecchino,  a  raw  recruit,  particularly  when  the  lat- 
ter, disguised  in  one  of  his  sweetheart's  dresses,  de- 
serts the  colours  after  a  sound  beating  for  insubor- 
dination, only  to  be  caught,  sentenced  to  be  shot,  and 
reprieved  while  the  muskets  of  the  firing  squad  are 
being  levelled  at  his  dull  head. 

In  the  comedy  drama  entitled  War  (La  Guerra), 
there  are  no  lazzi  and  no  mask  characters,  this  play 


386  GOLDONI 

being  more  serious  in  tone  and  far  more  naturalistic 
than  its  predecessor.  Its  scene  is  the  camp  of  an 
army  investing  a  fortified  place;  the  siege  of  Piz- 
zighettone,  at  which  Goldoni  had  been  present  in 
1733,  furnishing  the  material.  Its  story  concerns  the 
mutual  love  of  Don  Faustino,  a  young  ensign  in  the 
beleaguering  army,  and  Donna  Florida,  a  prisoner 
in  its  camp  as  well  as  the  daughter  of  the  general 
commanding  the  invested  fortress ;  yet  its  charm  lies 
far  more  in  its  spirited  pictures  of  camp  life  and  ex- 
cellent characterizations  than  in  its  romantic  plot. 

We  see  officers,  more  intent  on  winning  ducats  or 
hearts  than  battles,  gambling  and  making  love  on 
the  eve  of  an  assault;  we  see  a  venal  commissary,  who 
began  life  as  a  muleteer,  lending  them  money  at 
usurious  rates  and,  aided  by  a  conscienceless  vivan- 
diere,  selling  inferior  goods  at  double  prices  to  their 
men;  we  see  the  rank  and  file  despoiling  innocent 
country  girls  of  their  poultry  and  eggs,  and  libertine 
superiors  enticing  them  to  their  quarters.  From  the 
rapacious  camp  we  are  taken  to  the  grim  battle-field 
and  shown  the  invested  fortress  with  breached  walls 
and  the  besiegers  marshalled  for  the  assault.  A 
white  flag  flutters  on  the  ramparts,  and  Don  Egidio, 
the  general  commanding  the  fortress,  comes  forth  to 
parley.  His  terms  for  surrender  are  the  full  honours 
of  war;  and  when  these  are  refused,  he  goes  courage- 
ously back  to  defend  his  shattered  walls,  but  not  until 
he  has  met  the  young  enemy  who  loves  his  daughter 
and  has  chivalrously  accorded  him  her  hand  in  the 


EXOTIC  COMEDIES  387 

event  that  the  lover  shall  survive  until  peace  is  de- 
clared. The  drums  beat,  the  trumpets  sound  the 
charge,  but,  just  as  the  cannon  are  trained  and  the 
matches  lighted,  a  courier  gallops  breathless  upon 
the  scene  with  the  news  of  peace,  the  horrors  of  war 
being  too  foreign  to  Goldoni's  kind  heart  to  permit 
him  to  display  them.  Nor  could  the  glitter  of  war 
blind  his  clear  vision  to  its  rapacity  and  meanness; 
witness  these  words  of  his  venal  commissary,  fatten- 
ing like  a  leech  on  the  blood  of  others : 

O'h,  what  a  fine  thing  is  war!  I  shall  ever  speak  well  of  it, 
and  there  is  no  danger  of  a  desire  for  peace  escaping  from  my  heart. 
Any  one  who  hears  me  might  say:  "You  pray  for  your  calling, 
like  the  wife  of  the  public  torturer  who  asked  Heaven  to  increase 
her  husband's  business!"  Well,  who  in  the  world  does  not  seek 
his  advantage  before  all  else?  Lawsuits  give  the  lawyers  their 
living  and  illness  gives  the  doctors  theirs;  yet  where  is  the  doctor 
or  the  lawyer  who  would  wish  all  men  to  be  well  and  all  families 
peaceful  ?  If  there  were  no  wars  there  would  be  no  commissaries ; 
and  who  is  the  man  that,  being  able  to  put  aside  a  hundred  thou- 
sand scudi  during  four  or  five  years  of  war,  would  for  love  of  his 
neighbour  desire  peace?  Those  who  see  their  lands  devastated 
wail  against  war;  not  those  who,  to  provision  the  army,  sell  at 
high  prices  their  corn  and  their  wine.  The  merchants  who  suffer 
the  damage  of  interrupted  business  complain  of  war;  not  those 
who  supply  the  soldiers'  needs  and  make  on  their  goods  twenty  or 
thirty  per  cent.  Those  families  who  unluckily  lose  a  father,  a 
son,  or  a  kinsman,  weep  over  war ;  not  those  who  see  them  return- 
ing home  rich  in  ^lory  and  laden  with  booty.  Sometimes  the  sol- 
diers and  the  officers,  too,  who  suffer  from  lack  of  necessities,  com- 
plain of  war,  but  certainly  a  commissary  like  me  does  not  com- 
plain, who,  swimming  in  prosperity,  profits  by  sales  and  provi- 
sions, and  whose  brains  make  the  gold  and  silver  of  everyone  in 
the  army  filter  into  his  pockets. 


388  GOLDONI 

The  camp-followers  in  this  military  play  are 
thieves  and  usurers,  the  officers  and  soldiers  mostly 
rakes  and  plunderers ;  for,  while  there  are  a  few  brave 
men  among  them,  such  as  Don  Alonso,  the  hero,  and 
intrepid  Don  Egidio,  to  temper  the  depravity  and 
sordidness  of  the  picture,  they  do  not  overshadow  its 
cruel  truth.  The  soldiers  that  overran  Italy  then, 
whether  French,  Austrian,  Spanish,  or  Piedmontese, 
were  hirelings  officered  by  dissolute  nobles  to  whom 
war  meant  the  gratification  of  their  lusts — officers 
who,  like  the  titled  lieutenant  of  this  play,  would 
gamble  their  last  gold  piece  away  on  the  eve  of  bat- 
tle, then  drain  a  bumper  of  burgundy  and  shout: 
"Long  live  war,  long  live  love,  long  live  good  wine 
and  fair  women!"  Such  an  army  Goldoni  portrays 
in  his  comedy-drama,  War — an  army  of  soldiers  who 
pillage,  officers  who  dissipate,  and  commissaries  who 
steal.  He  had  been  on  the  field  of  battle  and  in  the 
camp ;  he  had  even  been  despoiled  of  all  his  posses- 
sions by  the  stragglers  of  just  such  an  army  as  he  here 
depicts.  Small  wonder  that  this  clear-sighted  natu- 
ralist should  have  robbed  war  of  its  glamour! 


XII 

RIVALS  AND  CRITICS 

LIKE  Moliere,  the  master  mind  of  comedy,  in- 
deed like  nearly  every  dramatist  of  note,  Gol- 
doni was  malignantly  assailed  during  his 
lifetime  by  rivals  and  critics.  Being  a  peaceful,  as 
well  as  a  kindly  man,  he  never  provoked  a  quarrel; 
yet  during  the  years  when  he  wrote  for  the  Venetian 
stage,  there  was  scarcely  a  time  when  some  com- 
petitor of  inferior  talent  was  not  conspiring  to  wean 
the  public  from  him,  or  some  petty  caviller  traducing 
him.  Occasionally,  when  brought  to  bay,  he  turned 
upon  his  enemies ;  but  he  never  retorted  in  the  bill- 
ingsgate of  their  attacks  upon  him:  in  truth,  no  better 
proof  that  Goldoni  was  at  heart  a  gentleman  need  be  v/ 
adduced  than  to  tell  of  his  affrays  with  critics  and 
rivals,  among  whom  Carlo  Gozzi,  the  most  ribald  ! 
and  abusive,  was  a  gentleman  by  birth. 

To  the  "ill-conceived  zeal"  of  his  friends  Goldoni 
ascribes  the  asperity  of  foes,  who  were  provoked  to 
attack  him  because  "his  partisans  exalted  the  merits 
of  his  plays  too  highly."  In  his  memoirs  he  pays 
marked  tribute  to  his  defenders ;  yet  he  is  singularly 
silent  regarding  his  enemies.  Though  in  all  prob- 
ability his  defeat  in  the  long  war  Carlo  Gozzi  waged 

389 


390  GOLDONI 

against  him  drove  him  in  chagrin  to  a  foreign  land, 
not  once  does  he  speak  of  this  crabbed  rival,  or  his 
vitriolic  attacks,  "expressive  silence"  being  his  meet 
revenge.  It  becomes  necessary,  therefore,  to  trace 
the  story  of  his  literary  quarrels  in  the  writings  of  his 
enemies.  Of  these  there  is  no  dearth,  Venice  being 
then  the  printer's  paradise,  where  booksellers  sold 
their  wares  by  weight,  while  venders  of  pamphlets 
hawked  theirs  through  the  streets. 

At  the  corner  book-shop  or  the  coffee-house  old 
fogies  with  manuscript  protruding  from  the  tail- 
pockets  of  their  coats,  glossologists,  romancers,  poets, 
lexicographers,  wits,  purists,  encyclopaedists  and  ga- 
zetteers, each  with  a  belief  in  himself  and  a  contempt 
for  his  rival,  talked  literature  and  pinched  snuff  from 
morn  till  night,  or  read  the  Gazzetta  Veneta.  When 
the  light  grew  too  dim  for  their  old  eyes  to  see  print, 
they  sauntered  forth  to  the  Sant7  Angelo  or  the  San 
Luca  to  witness  the  latest  comedy;  and  when  the  cur- 
tain had  fallen,  they  carried  the  acerbity  of  their  dis- 
putes concerning  it  to  the  Ridotto,  where,  between 
their  coups  at  faro,  they  averred  that  Goldoni  had 
emptied  his  bag.  Most  men  without  a  lucrative  oc- 
cupation, if  they  were  not  beggars  or  thieves,  were 
writers  earning  what  they  could  by  penning  occa- 
sional verse  and  dedications — a  slice  of  bread,  may- 
hap, with  a  cup  of  chocolate — or,  if  the  patron  were 
noble,  a  pair  of  cuff-buttons,  a  silver  breakfast  serv- 
ice. There  were  poets  who  starved  in  garrets  and 
poets  who  lolled  in  palaces,  and  though  some  wore 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  3911 

threadbare  coats  and  others  silken  robes,  so  many 
reams  of  verse  were  written  by  them  that  sonnets 
were  blown  hither  and  thither  by  the  wind,  while 
Gozzi  reckoned  that  a  cobbler  got  more  for  a  stitch 
than  a  poet  for  a  line.  Small  wonder,  therefore, 
that  successful  Goldoni  should  have  been  the  target 
for  jealous  shafts. 

No  sooner  did  he  appear  in  Venice  as  the  play- 
wright of  Imer's  troupe,  than  a  colleague  in  the  law, 
named  Gori,  who  was  a  comic  poet,  too,  "set  out  to 
persecute  him,  even  before  he  began  to  write,"  1  and 
to  plagiarize  his  work  as  well ;  but  not  until  he  re- 
turned to  Venice  in  1748  with  Medebac's  provincial 
players  did  serious  hostilities  with  rivals  and  critics 
break  out.  Elegant  Anthony  was  considered  "too 
true  and  pungent,"  Goldoni  declares;  The  Prudent 
Man  "had  as  much  guile  as  discretion."  Pancrazio 
in  The  Venetian  Twins  "was  a  character  to  be  con- 
demned," while  the  newly  arrived  players,  since  sev- 
eral of  them  had  been  performers  on  the  tight-rope, 
were  dismissed  as  "a  troupe  of  funambulists."  These 
patronizing  strictures  gave  place  to  vehemence,  how- 
ever, when  The  Artful  Widow  carried  the  town  by 
storm,  and  no  sooner  had  this  sprightly  comedy 
scored  a  palpable  hit  than,  to  arrest  the  rising  tide 
of  the  newcomers'  fortunes,  the  comedians  of  the  San 
Samuele  staged  The  School  for  Widows  (La  Scuola 
delle  vedove),  the  premiere  of  which  Goldoni  thus 
describes : 

1  Preface  to  Vol.  XIII,  Pasquali  edition. 


392  GOLDONI 

Some  one  had  told  me  it  was  to  be  a  parody  on  my  play.  Not 
at  all;  it  was  my  Widow  herself:  the  four  foreigners  of  the  same 
nations,  the  same  plot  and  the  same  procedure.  Only  the  dia- 
logue was  changed,  and  that  was  filled  with  invectives  and  insults, 
directed  at  my  players  and  me.  An  actor  would  deliver  a  few 
phrases  of  my  original ;  another  would  add :  "Stupidities,  stupidi- 
ties!" They  would  repeat  some  clever  sayings,  some  jokes  from 
my  piece,  then  cry  in  chorus:  "Nonsense,  nonsense!"  This  work 
did  not  cost  the  author  much  trouble;  he  had  followed  my  plot 
and  my  method,  and  his  style  was  no  happier  than  mine;  yet,  ap- 
plause burst  forth  from  all  sides;  the  gibes,  the  satirical  shafts 
were  emphasized  by  laughter,  by  shouts  of  bravo,  by  continuous 
hand-claps;  I  was  in  my  box,  covered  by  my  mask;  I  kept  my 
silence,  and  called  the  public  ungrateful. 

That  public  was  not  his  public,  however,  as  he 
soon  discovered,  the  theatre  being  packed  with  the 
adherents  of  rival  troupes.  He  had  vowed  never  to 
reply  to  critics,  yet  he  thought  it  "would  be  cow- 
ardly not  to  arrest  this  torrent  that  threatened  to  de- 
stroy him";  therefore,  hastening  home,  he  plied  his 
pen  "with  rancour"  throughout  the  night,  until  he  had 
composed  a  dialogue  for  three  characters  entitled, 
An  Apologetic  Prologue  for  the  Artful  Widow 
(Prologo  apologetico  della  vedova  scaltra).  Seiz- 
ing upon  certain  passages  in  The  School  for  Widows, 
in  which  foreigners  were  handled  in  a  way  contrary 
to  the  delicacy  with  which  they  were  treated  by  the 
authorities,  he  endeavoured  in  this  jeremiad,  so  he 
says,  to  show  the  need  for  a  police  censorship  of 
plays. 

When  warned  by  Senator  Antonio  Condulmer,  his 
manager's  patron,  that  if  he  published  this  Prologue, 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  393 

he  would  incur  the  displeasure  of  the  authorities, 
Goldoni  replied  that  if  the  government  interfered, 
he  would  go  to  some  foreign  country  and  issue  it 
there.  Upon  its  appearance  he  had  three  thousand 
copies  of  it  distributed  gratis  in  the  theatres,  coffee- 
houses, and  casini  of  Venice.  Two  days  later,  he 
says,  the  State  Inquisitors  forbade  the  further  per- 
formance of  The  School  for  Widows,  his  own  Art- 
ful Widow  "going  on  her  way  more  brilliantly  and 
more  affluently  than  ever."  2  "If  the  reader  is  curi- 
ous to  know  the  author  of  The  School  for  Widows" 
he  continues,  "I  cannot  satisfy  him,  for  I  shall  never 
mention  by  name  the  persons  who  have  intended  to 
do  me  evil."  The  late  Hermann  von  Lohner,  how- 
ever, unearthed  among  the  annotations  of  the  State 
Inquisitors  3  the  name  of  the  author  of  The  School 
for  Widows,  who  was  none  other  than  the  Abate 
Pietro  Chiari,  for  many  years  Goldoni's  rival  for  the 
favour  of  the  Venetian  public,  until  Carlo  GozzPs 
attacks  on  both  made  allies  of  these  contending  dra- 
matists. 

Although  Chiari  had  perhaps  as  many  contempo- 
rary partisans  as  Goldoni,  his  name  survives  only  be- 
cause it  was  linked  with  that  of  his  great  rival  dur- 
ing the  dramatic  war  that  was  waged  for  years  in 
Venice  between  the  forces  of  theatrical  reform,  led 
by  Goldoni,  and  the  defenders  of  the  Improvised 
Comedy  of  whom,  as  we  shall  see,  Carlo  Gozzi  was 

2  Giuseppe  Ortolan!    (op.  cit.)    says  the  performances  of  La  Fedova 
scaltra  were  stopped,  as  well  as  those  of  its  parody. 

3  Archivio  Veneto,  Vol.  XXIII. 


394  GOLDONI 

the  resourceful  and  unprincipled  leader.  Before  he 
stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  him  against  the  at- 
tacks of  Gozzi,  Goldoni  fought  Chiari  valiantly. 
The  latter,  however,  was  the  aggressor,  and  beneath 
his  standard  were  enlisted  the  actors  and  managers 
of  Venice  with  their  friends  and  patrons,  all  of  whom 
resented  the  success  of  Medebac's  upstart  troupe, 
made  possible  by  its  playwright's  surpassing  stage- 
craft. 

About  the  time  he  attacked  Goldoni  in  The  School 
for  Widows,  Chiari  made  his  Venetian  debut  at  the 
San  Samuele  theatre  as  the  writer  of  a  comedy,4  the 
actors  of  that  playhouse  being  apparently  glad  to 
welcome  any  one  with  the  temerity  to  oppose  Gol- 
doni; for  Chiari,  it  should  be  said,  was  a  Brescian  by 
birth  and  in  Venice  a  new-comer.  Once  a  Jesuit,  he 
had  been  a  Modenese  schoolmaster,  as  well  as  a  car- 
dinal's secretary  and  an  Arcadian  poet,  and  when 
he  appeared  in  Venice  he  became  a  vile  plagiarist, 
not  only  Goldoni's  plays,  but  also  Costantini's  Criti- 
cal Letters,  being  filched  by  his  unprincipled  pen. 

Chiari  was  essentially  a  man  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, grappling,  like  Voltaire,  with  all  human  knowl- 
edge ;  yet  only  in  the  wide  range  and  voluminousness 
of  his  work  does  he  resemble  his  great  French  con- 
temporary. Although  he  produced  tragedies,  come- 
dies, letters,  satires,  novels,  philosophical,  scientific, 
political,  and  ethical  treatises,  drawing-room  dia- 
logues, parodies,  sonnets,  and  epithalamia,  Chiari 

^L'Awenturlere    alia    moda,    which    according   to    Giuseppe    Ortolan! 
was  produced  during  the  autumn  of  1749. 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  395 

was  a  literary  charlatan  without  genuine  ideals  or 
ambitions,  writing  whatever  would  turn  a  penny. 
By  crowing  loudly  in  the  literary  barnyard,  he  man- 
aged to  centre  attention  upon  himself,  even  to  the 
extent  of  stealing  Goldoni's  laurels  as  the  reformer 
of  Italian  comedy.  With  his  hand  ever  on  the  pub- 
lic's pulse,  he  prescribed  the  momentary  stimulant 
that  would  quicken  it.  "An  Italian  without  a  coun- 
try, a  priest  without  religion,  a  writer  without 
ideas,"  5  this  Brescian  ex-Jesuit  plagiarized  his  way 
into  popularity,  and  disputed  with  Goldoni  the  dra- 
matic ascendency  in  Venice,  his  tenet  being  that  "at 
public  wells  any  one  may  draw  water."  From  the 
JEntid  alone  he  drew  three  plays,  its  hero  becoming 
in  his  butchering  hand  a  Captain  Fracasso,  Menelaus 
a  doting  pantaloon,  and  Helen  a  prattling  gadabout. 
But  the  best  grist  came  to  his  mill  from  Goldoni's 
sprightly  comedies;  for  whenever  his  brilliant 
rival  staged  a  success,  Chiari  rushed  an  imitation  on 
the  boards  of  the  San  Samuele;  thus  to  Moliere  he 
opposed  Moliere,  a  Jealous  Husband  (Moliere, 
marito  geloso),  clothed  in  the  Martellian  verse  Gol- 
doni had  made  popular.  Not  to  be  outdone  by  his 
rival's  Clever  Woman,  Chiari  produced  a  play  of  the 
same  name,  and  contemporaneously  with  Pamela  he 
placed  upon  his  stage  Marianna;  or,  The  Orphan 
(Marianna  o  sia  I'Orfana),  his  own  lachrymose  ver- 
sion of  Richardson's  novel.  No  sooner  had  The  Per- 
sian Bride  won  a  popular  success  by  means  of  the 

5  Giuseppe  Ortolan! :  op.  cit. 


396  GOLDONI 

sympathetic  part  of  Hircana,  the  slave,  than  the  Bres- 
cian  was  ready  to  court  approval  with  a  Chinese  Slave 
(La  Schiava  Chinese),  while  Goldoni's  English  Phi- 
losopher (II  Filosofo  ingles e)  was  quickly  followed 
by  a  Venetian  Philosopher  (II  Filosofo  veneziano) 
and  his  Terence  by  a  Plautus  (II  Plauto).  More- 
over, of  the  three  versions  of  Voltaire's  Scotch  Girl 
that  were  staged  contemporaneously  in  Venice,  one, 
The  Fair  Pilgrim  (La  Bella  pellegrina),  was  Chi- 
ari's. 

Though  a  bad  plagiarist,  he  understood  his  public. 
A  man  of  debauched  talent  and  with  little  skill  in 
comedy,  he  set  himself  to  the  task  of  playwriting  as 
to  any  other  task,  and  because  reform  was  in  the  air 
he  posed  as  a  reformer.  "Perhaps,"  as  Giulio  Ca- 
prin  says,6  "he  did  not  really  love  the  stage,  but  his 
romantic  imagination  inspired  comedies  between  the 
astounding  and  the  pathetic  which  were  not  displeas- 
ing to  the  public."  He  was  by  his  own  confession 
"a  merchant,  not  a  pirate,  who  read  the  most  cele- 
brated authors  not  to  pillage,  but  to  imitate  them."  7 
Seldom,  indeed,  has  a  literary  impostor  victimized 
his  contemporaries  so  thoroughly,  for  in  Venice  the 
charlatanism  of  this  "dull  and  frantic  abate,"  as  Pro- 
fessor Ortolani  styles  Chiari,  was  confounded  with 
Goldoni's  art,  a  perversion  of  literary  justice,  due,  it 
may  be  added,  more  to  the  age  than  to  Venetian  de- 
cadence. 

The  dramaturgic  war  that  was   declared  when 

eOp.  cit.  7  Preface  to  La  Vendetta  amorosa. 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  397 

Chiari  parodied  The  Artful  Widow,  waged  fitfully 
for  ten  years,  and  reached  its  height  when  Goldoni  left 
the  Sant'  Angelo  theatre  to  work  for  its  rival,  the  San 
Luca,  since  no  sooner  did  Medebac  learn  of  his  dra- 
matist's defection,  than  he  engaged  Chiari  to  fill  his 
place.  During  the  earlier  years  of  these  hostilities 
the  laurels  were  with  Goldoni.  Hopeful,  rich  in 
imagination  and  experience,  and  sure,  moreover,  of 
the  truth  of  his  dramatic  ideals,  he  believed  in  his 
ability  to  silence  his  enemies.  At  the  very  moment 
when  failure  threatened  to  engulf  him,  he  vowed  that 
he  would  write  sixteen  plays  in  a  single  year,  and  the 
fulfilment  of  that  boast  was  his  triumph,  for  then  the 
public  flocked  to  his  standard,  Chiari  being  forced 
to  retire  from  the  field  to  rally  his  shattered  forces. 
But  the  pace  Goldoni  had  set  was  too  swift  to  be 
maintained,  and  the  public  he  wrote  for  too  fickle 
to  remain  loyal  even  to  so  valiant  a  hero;  therefore, 
Chiari  soon  retrieved  his  fortunes  and  by  imitating 
his  rival  was  able  to  confound  the  issue  and  acclaim 
himself  "the  sole  and  true  restorer  of  the  Italian 
drama,"  though  he  condescendingly  admitted  that 
some  credit  for  the  reform  might  be  given  Goldoni. 
Literary  and  social  Venice  became  divided  into 
two  camps,  the  Chiaristas  and  the  Goldonistas,  who 
bombarded  each  other  with  pasquinades  and  pam- 
phlets, the  coffee-houses,  the  streets,  and  even  the  pal- 
aces being  the  scene  of  hostilities.  Goldoni  having 
painted  them  in  their  true  colours,  the  women  flocked 
to  Chiari's  standard,  and  in  his  ranks  as  well  were 


398  GOLDONI 

the  poetasters  and  pamphleteers,  some  too  dull  to 
judge  of  merit;  some,  like  foul-mouthed  Giorgio 
Baflo,  the  licentious  poet,  talented  enough  to  have 
seen  the  error  of  their  ways.  This  rivalry  between 
the  two  dramatists  an  anonymous  rhymester  of  the 
day  paints  vividly  in  these  verses,  their  contest  for 
the  favour  of  the  public  being  likened  to  a  regatta  on 
the  Grand  Canal : 

Protection  was  Goldoni's  gondola, 

A  worthy  bark,  indeed,  though  rudderless; 

He  is  a  man  whose  thoughts  serve  him  as  oars, — 

And  he  who  lacks  them,  be  it  said,  lacks  much. 

Chiari's  virtues  answer  as  his  craft; 

He  rows  not  hard,  yet  rows.     A  sage  is  he, 

Who  bravely  writes.     This  stands  him  in  good  stead. 

One  has  more  knack,  the  other  takes  more  pains; 

Yet,  rowing  calls  for  strength  as  well  as  skill. 

Their  moorings  cast,  Goldoni  takes  the  lead, 

Ten  boat-lengths  in  advance,  as  many  said; 

By  brawn  Chiari  would  have  forged  ahead, 

Had  not  a  racing-skiff  opposed  his  course. 

It  held  him  but  a  trice;  his  friends,  because 

Goldoni  leads,  to  his  assistance  rally. 

On,  on  Goldoni  darts,  straining  his  back. 

Chiari  bravely  spurts ;  in  sad  surprise 

Goldoni  sees  his  hated  rival  bump 

His  own  bark's  hastening  poop  with  swifter  prow. 

This  pleasing  allegory  represents  the  struggle  of 
the  earlier  years,  when  Goldoni  enjoyed  the  favour  of 
the  public,  and  Chiari  was  unable  to  equal  him. 
Continuing  in  the  same  vein,  the  anonymous  satirist 
describes  the  second  stretch  of  the  race.  Here  Chi- 
ari, by  adopting  his  rival's  methods,  made  his  boat 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  399 

"speed  like  an  arrow,"  even  though  the  world  said 
that  "to  copy  was  to  play  the  blockhead";  Chiari's 
retort  being  that  a  skilful  imitation  of  a  good  original 
is  not  a  copy,  since  he  who  imitates  well  the  good 
work  of  wise  men,  is  an  artist  and  not  a  fool,  his  own 
imitations  being  as  skilful  as  the  work  of  a  great 
>ainter  who  copies  Titian.  After  this  critical  di- 
;ression  the  allegory  of  the  race  is  thus  continued: 

Let  us  turn  to  the  boats  as  they  were  left: 

Chiari  now  pulls  on  with  speedier  strokes; 

Goldoni's,  fewer,  longer,  easier, 

And,  equalling  his  foe's,  as  forceful  are. 

The  judge's  stand  is  reached ;  yet  neither  leads. 

On  both  the  red  flag  falls;  and  I  am  bound 

To  say,  the  race  is  drawn,  for  both  have  won ! 

When  at  the  height  of  his  rivalry  with  his  noted 
contemporary,  Chiari  made  a  triumphant  visit  to 
Modena  in  1754,  where  he  had  formerly  been  a 
schoolmaster,  and  there  he  was  acclaimed  the  re- 
former of  the  Italian  stage.  Though  his  grandfather 
was  a  Modenese,  and  though,  broken  in  health  from 
his  arduous  work  for  the  public,  Goldoni  had  just 
passed  several  weeks  in  Modena  with  his  entire  fam- 
ily, that  ungrateful  town  forswore  him  to  honour  a 
vagrant  in  a  stolen  coat,  for  surely  those  lines  written 
by  the  Abate  Vicini,  court  poet  of  Modena,  fit  Gol- 
doni alone: 

New  ground  to  cultured  Europe  you  exposed, 
A  comic  world,  Chiari,  you  disclosed.8 

8  In  Delia  vera  poesla  teatrale,  etc.     Vicini,  it  will  be  recalled,  was 
probably  the  Abate  J.-B.-V.,  whose  chastisement  caused  Goldoni  to  wish 


400  GOLDONI 

The  Brescian  was  praised  in  Modena,  moreover, 
for  "banishing  troublesome  truth  from  the  stage." 
Hailed  as  a  former  citizen,  he  was  given  an  ovation 
in  the  Rangoni  theatre,  the  title  of  court  poet  being 
bestowed  upon  him  by  the  reigning  duke  two  years 
before  Goldoni  was  similarly  honoured  by  the  ruler 
of  Parma. 

"Such  indifference  to  Goldoni's  comedies  in  so 
short  a  time,"  exclaims  a  Modenese  contemporary,9 
"when  it  seemed  that  the  entire  world  had  become  a 
band  of  fanatics  in  that  great  man's  cause  1"  This 
writer,  moreover,  thus  thrusts  him  aside  as  a  man 
who  had  served  his  purpose: 

Certainly,  no  one  will  ever  be  able  to  take  from  Goldoni  the 
boast  and  the  merit  of  having  been  the  first  to  promote  in  our 
day  so  great  a  good  with  such  a  will;  but  he  has  truly  been  too 
much  in  haste.  Desiring  to  give  so  many  comedies  each  year  is 
going  too  far,  and  the  wish  to  do  too  much  has  misled  him.  He 
has  chosen  in  some  of  his  comedies  characters  that  are  not  proper 
either  on  the  stage  or  in  society;  therefore,  to  present  them,  a  par- 
ticular kind  of  audience  is  necessary  if  modesty  is  not  to  be  of- 
fended. 

Although  lovers  of  fustian  were  unable  to  see  that 
the  elegance  they  admired  in  Chiari  was  mere  stilted- 
ness,  and  the  impropriety  they  condemned  in  Goldoni 
the  very  naturalism  that  makes  him  live,  Goldoni 

to  become  a  monk.  While  Goldoni  was  ill  at  Modena,  Vicini  assisted 
him  affectionately,  but  together  with  other  Modenese  poets  and  critics 
took  Chiari's  side,  when  this  dramatist  was  patriotically  glorified. 
Nevertheless,  Goldoni  bore  Vicini  no  ill  will,  and  dedicated  La  Villeg- 
glatura  to  him. 

9  Abate  Francesco  Fanti  in  a  letter  of  Aug.  8,  1754,  published  in 
Modena  a  Carlo  Goldoni. 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  401 

himself  understood  Chiari's  weakness.  In  The  Dis- 
contented (I  Malcontenti),  a  comedy  he  wrote 
while  this  rivalry  still  flourished,  he  cleverly  satirized 
the  Brescian  in  these  words,  spoken  by  Grisologo, 
one  of  its  characters : 

My  style,  which  shall  make  me  world-famous,  consists  in  the 
ability  to  say  things  in  a  vibrating,  high-falutin,  sonorous  way, 
full  of  metaphors  and  similes,  by  which  means  I  rise  now  to  the 
starry  skies,  now  skim  the  low-lying  earth.  ...  I  bind  the  tragic 
and  the  comic  together,  and  whenever  I  write  in  verse,  I  abandon 
myself  wholly  to  poetic  passion,  without  heeding  nature,  which  is 
wont  to  be  obeyed  by  others  with  excessive  scruple.  ...  I  apply 
all  my  industry  to  the  easy  flow  of  metre,  to  the  vibration  of 
rhyme,  and  you  shall  see  with  what  workmanship  I  have  woven 
together  the  first  verses  in  order  to  heighten  the  effect  of  the  second. 

But  Goldoni  was  not  left  to  fight  his  battles  alone; 
he,  too,  had  ardent  partisans,  whom  he  is  at  pains  to 
name  in  his  memoirs,  even  while  silent  regarding  his 
traducers.  During  his  sojourn  at  Parma,  his  enemies 
at  home,  it  will  be  remembered,  published  the  news 
of  his  death,  but  when  he  returned  safe  and  sound  to 
Venice,  bearing  a  ducal  appointment  and  possessing 
a  pension,  which  "excited  the  envy  and  anger  of  his 
foes,"  there  were  men  of  letters  who,  as  he  says,  "had 
some  consideration  for  him"  and  undertook  his  de- 
fence. "Thus  a  war  was  declared,"  he  exclaims,  "in 
which  I  became  quite  innocently  the  victim  of  angry 
minds." 

The  friends  Goldoni  names  as  his  defenders  are  the 
Jesuit  father  Giambatista  Roberti,  a  Bassanese  poet 
and  philosopher;  the  Abate  Sciugliaga,  a  Dalma- 


402  GOLDONI 

tian,  who  not  only  defended  him  with  his  pen,  but 
who,  years  later,  loaned  him  money  as  well;  Count 
Pietro  Verri,  a  Milanese  soldier,  administrator,  and 
man  of  letters,  who  with  his  brother  and  some  literary 
intimates  founded  a  coffee-house  club  in  Milan  with 
a  journal  //  Caff},  modelled  upon  Addison's  Spec- 
tator, as  its  mouthpiece;  Nicolo  Beregan,  a  patrician 
poet,  and  Count  Gasparo  Gozzi,  brother  of  the  man 
with  whom  he  was  soon  to  become  embroiled  in  a 
warfare  of  greater  moment  than  that  with  Chiari. 
Roberti  and  Beregan  lauded  Goldoni  in  stilted  verse, 
while  Verri  had  the  acumen  to  say  in  discriminating 
prose  that: 

Goldoni's  comedies  rest  in  the  first  place  on  a  basis  of  true  vir- 
tue, humanity,  kindness,  and  love  of  duty  which  warms  our 
hearts  with  the  pure  flame  that  spreads  wherever  it  finds  fuel,  and 
distinguishes  any  one  who  calls  himself  a  man  of  honour  from  a 
vagabond. 

Though  friends  rallied  to  his  defence,  and  their 
pamphlets  and  verses  flooded  Venice,  Goldoni's  name 
would  remain  as  unknown  to-day  as  that  of  his  paltry 
rival,  had  not  the  victory  been  won  by  his  own  genius. 
Chiari  returned  in  triumph  from  Modena  only  to 
lose  the  fight,  for  the  dramatist  who  in  the  end  pleased 
the  Venetians  most,  pleases  posterity  as  well.  During 
the  years  that  followed,  Goldoni  put  forth  his  best 
work,  while  failure  after  failure  crowned  his  rival's 
plagiaristic  methods,  until,  as  Goldoni  confesses, 
"poor  Medebac  was  reduced  to  much  fasting,"  he  still 
being  Chiari's  manager.10 

10  Letter  to  Arconati-Visconti,  Oct.   30,  1756. 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  403 

But  a  storm  was  gathering  to  deluge  both  of  these 
warring  dramatists,  since  in  Carlo  Gozzi  they  met  a 
foe  so  redoubtable  that  they  were  forced  to  become 
allies,  his  venomous  literary  shafts  being  aimed  at 
Goldoni  and  Chiari  alike.  Indeed,  in  all  literary 
history  there  are  few  more  rancorous  attacks  than 
that  delivered  by  Gozzi  against  these  erstwhile  ene- 
mies. 

This  singular  man,  born  in  Venice  in  1720,  was  a 
bachelor  and  a  poet,  of  so  morose  a  nature  that  he  was 
greeted  as  the  Bear,  and  known  as  the  Solitary.  Hav- 
ing led  a  roving  military  life  in  Dalmatia  during  his 
youth,  he  had  returned  to  Venice,  and  there,  in  the 
midst  of  lawsuits,  had  endeavoured  unsuccessfully  to 
re-establish  the  family  fortunes.  Though  he  bore  the 
title  of  count  and  belonged  to  an  honourable  Venetian 
family,  he  was  not  a  patrician  with  the  right  of  vot- 
ing in  the  Grand  Council.  Like  Gasparo  Gozzi,  his 
weaker  but  more  agreeable  brother,  whom  he  truly 
loved  even  while  reproving  his  faults,  he  plied  his 
pen  assiduously ;  yet  he  sneered  at  that  brother  for  sell- 
ing his  writings.  He  was,  however,  no  such  castle- 
builder  as  he  is  painted  by  Paul  de  Musset  and  Ver- 
non  Lee.  On  the  contrary,  to  quote  John  Addington 
Symonds : " 

He  was  no  dramatic  dreamer  and  abstract  visionary,  but  a  keen, 
hardheaded  man  of  business,  caustic  in  speech  and  stubborn  in  act, 
adhering  tenaciously  to  his  opinions  and  his  rights,  acidly  and  sar- 
donically humorous,  eccentric,  but  fully  aware  of  his  eccentricities, 
and  apt  to  use  them  as  the  material  of  burlesque  humour. 

11  Op.  cit. 


404  GOLDONI 

It  may  be  added  that  he  was  an  implacable  enemy. 
His  dramatic  pieces,  satirical  poems,  and  prose  com- 
positions were  mainly  polemical;  while  two  malig- 
nant controversies  have  made  his  name  survive  his 
writings.  The  first  of  these  was  the  bitter  war  he 
waged  against  Goldoni  and  Chiari ;  the  other  a  three- 
cornered  quarrel  with  Pier  Antonio  Gratarol  over 
an  actress,  which  was  complicated  by  a  breach  of 
lover's  faith  on  Gratarol's  part  against  Caterina 
Dolfin  Tron,  an  influential  though  venomous  patri- 
cian woman.  With  this  latter  quarrel  the  present 
work  is  not  concerned;  it  was,  however,  the  direct 
cause  for  the  writing  of  GozzPs  memoirs,  and  shows 
his  partiality  for  actresses,  whom  it  was  his  wont  to 
advise,  direct,  abuse,  and  teach,  "while  they  danced 
in  rings  around  his  leanness,  encircling  his  silence 
with  whispers  and  his  melancholy  with  peals  of 
laughter."  12 

Carlo  Gozzi  delighted  in  quarrels,  bile  being  the 
very  substance  of  his  nature.  Being  incurably  melan- 
cholic, when  not  warring  with  some  enemy  he  sought 
lonely  places  for  his  halting  steps,  and  in  vain  tried 
to  be  cheerful  by  tickling  himself  in  order  that  he 
might  laugh.  At  the  age  of  seventy-seven  he  pub- 
lished his  autobiography,  to  which  he  gave  the  singu- 
lar title:  Useless  Memoirs  of  the  Life  of  Carlo 
Gozzi,  Written  by  Himself  and  Published  from  Mo- 
tives of  Humility  (Memorie  inutili  dell  a  vita  di 
Carlo  Gozzi  scritte  da  lui  medesimo  e  pubblicate  per 

12  Philippe  Monnier:  op.  cit. 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  405 

umllta] .  The  object  he  had  in  mind  in  writing  these 
memoirs  was  to  vindicate  himself  from  the  slurs  Gra- 
tarol  had  cast  upon  his  character  at  the  time  of  their 
quarrel,  but  he  tells  as  well  the  story  of  his  dispute 
with  Goldoni  and  Chiari ;  and  since  he  enjoyed  rare 
facilities  for  the  study  of  Venetian  life,  the  scope  of 
his  Useless  Memoirs  is  far  wider  than  the  mere  de- 
tailing of  personal  and  literary  squabbles.  Their 
pages  teem  with  descriptions  of  their  author's  private 
life,  and  of  his  dealings  with  lawyers,  brokers,  Jews, 
and  all  sorts  of  odd  persons,  while  the  more  varied 
pictures  they  present  of  literary,  social,  and  stage  life 
make  them  a  richer  document  for  the  study  of  Vene- 
tian customs  in  the  eighteenth  century  than  Goldoni's 
more  restricted  memoirs.  Moreover,  Gozzi  reveals 
his  character  in  all  its  aspects,  the  particulars  of  his 
love-affairs  being  frankly  told,  yet  without  the  ab- 
normality in  this  respect  displayed  by  Casanova. 

Such,  in  brief,  was  the  character  of  the  man  with 
whom  Goldoni,  after  triumphing  over  Chiari,  was 
forced  to  cross  swords  for  the  sovereignty  of  the  Vene- 
tian stage.  The  war  between  these  two  writers  so 
opposite  in  character,  was  incited  by  their  antipodal 
convictions,  Gozzi  being  an  unyielding  conservative 
in  both  politics  and  thought,  and  therefore  opposed  by 
nature  to  Gol'doni,  the  reformer,  who  was  seeking  to 
dethrone  the  national  Improvised  Comedy  with  plays 
constructed  according  to  foreign  principles. 

A  considerable  number  of  Venetians  had  already 
been  carried  away  with  the  deism  of  Voltaire  and 


406  GOLDONI 

the  Encyclopaedists,  while  French  fashions  were  dis- 
tinctly the  vogue.     Indeed,  there  were  men  like  An- 
gelo  Querini  bold  enough  to  preach  political  reform 
in  the  very  shadow  of  the  terrifying  Inquisition  of 
State.     In    the    drawing-rooms,    coffee-houses,    and 
casini,  French  literature  was  discussed  and  French 
fashions  were  aped;  for  in  Venice,  as  elsewhere  in 
Europe,  the  foundations  of  the  old  order  of  things 
were  beginning  to  crumble  under  the  weight  of  revo- 
lutionary sentiment,  French  philosophy  having  in- 
spired even  in  the  hearts  of  the  bourgeoisie  and  the 
proletariat  the  hope  that  a  new  era  was  dawning. 
Meanwhile,    conservatives   clung   to    their   precon- 
ceptions, the  word  prejudice  being  used  freely  by  the 
radicals  in  condemnation  of  every  restraining  influ- 
ence in  politics  and  morals,  even  the  society  of  de- 
crepit Venice  being  in  the  state  of  unrest  that  pre- 
vailed throughout  Europe,  but  more  particularly  in 
France.     Together  with  the  old  order  of  things,  the 
Improvised  Comedy  had  become  infirm,  and  together 
with  the  inroad  of  French  ideas  and  isms,  a  comedy 
hitherto  unknown  to  the  Italians  came  into  being  un- 
der the  adept  hand  of  Goldoni.     Moreover,  he  had 
satirized  the  nobles  on  the  stage.     So  long  as  he  con- 
fined his  reforms  to  the  writing  of  a  style  of  comedy 
that  heretofore  had  been  extemporized,  the  conserva- 
tives saw  in  him  no  great  menace  to  the  national  stage, 
but  when,  as  in  the  case  of  Pamela  and  The  Scotch 
Girl  he  entered  the  lachrymose  field  of  La  Chaussee 
and  garnered  foreign  plots  as  well,  he  became  in  their 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  407 

eyes  a  radical  innovator,  and  when  Chiari  followed 
suit,  he  too  inspired  conservative  hate. 

This  Toryism  found  expression  in  a  conserva- 
tive academy,  organized  in  1747,  under  the  ribald 
name  of  Accademla  Granellesca,  of  which  Carlo 
Gozzi  was  the  inspiring  genius.  A  witless  little 
priest  with  a  tiny  voice,  named  Giuseppe  Secchellari, 
was  chosen  as  Arcigranellone^  or  arch-big-simple- 
ton, of  this  academy,  and  with  mock  reverence  its 
members  placed  a  garland  of  plums  upon  his  brow, 
he  being  enthroned  on  a  huge  chair,  which  he  fondly 
believed  to  be  the  seat  of  the  renowned  Cardinal 
Bembo  of  classic  memory,  while  he  was  derided  in 
mock  odes  and  flummery  which  he  thought  were  pane- 
gyrics. In  the  heat  of  summer,  whilst  the  acade- 
micians sipped  cooling  drinks,  hot  tea  was  given  him 
as  a  mark  of  superiority;  and  in  winter,  whilst  they 
drank  coffee,  he  was  served  ice  water,  the  miserable 
arch-simpleton  being  forced  to  sweat  or  shiver  ac- 
cording to  the  season.  When  they  tired  of  frolicking 
at  his  expense,  the  academicians  left  him  to  drivel  in 
the  chair  of  Bembo,  while  they  discussed  serious  mat- 
ters, the  objects  of  the  academy  being  to  promote  the 
study  of  the  best  Italian  authors,  the  simplicity  and 
harmony  of  refined  style,  and  above  all  the  purity  of 
the  Italian  language.  In  the  pursuance  of  these  wor- 
thy purposes  the  Granelleschi  fell  foul  of  Goldoni, 
who  far  from  being  a  purist  was  considered  by  them 
a  radical,  guilty  of  undermining  the  Italian  drama. 

13  Granello  is  a  synonym  of  cogliono  and  both  have  the  secondary  mean- 
ing of  simpleton. 


408  GOLDONI 

Besides  Carlo  Gozzi  and  his  brother,  Gasparo,  this 
academy  counted  among  its  members  Giuseppe  Bar- 
etti  the  critic,  Forcellini  the  litterateur,  Lastenio  the 
polygraph,  and  many  a  lesser  light,  as  well  as  a 
sprinkling  of  dilettante  patricians;  but  of  all  these 
only  Carlo  Gozzi  and  Baretti  attacked  Goldoni 
viciously.  Indeed,  Gasparo  Gozzi  was  so  well  dis- 
posed toward  him  that  he  not  only  criticized  his  work 
favourably  in  the  columns  of  the  Gazzetta  Veneta,  but 
also  saw  the  Pasquali  edition  of  his  plays  through  the 
press,  after  Goldoni  had  departed  for  France. 

Carlo  Gozzi,  however,  was  an  implacable  host  in 
himself,  to  whose  sour,  conservative  mind  the  Im- 
provised Comedy  was  "the  particular  distinction  of 
the  Italian  nation."  To  this  purist  Goldoni  appeared 
to  possess  "poverty  and  meanness  of  intrigue,"  and  as 
a  writer  of  Italian  he  seemed  "not  unworthy  to  be 
placed  among  the  dullest,  basest,  and  least  accurate 
authors  who  have  used  our  idiom."  Chiari  he  con- 
sidered "the  most  turgid,  the  most  inflated  writer  of 
the  century,"  and  though  he  acknowledged  "the  in- 
finite superiority  of  Goldoni  as  a  comic  playwright," 
he  looked  upon  the  "mania"  created  by  these  drama- 
tists as  "a  fungus  growth  upon  opinion,  at  best  worthy 
of  laughter." 

In  the  year  1756 14  while  the  rumour  of  GoldonFs 
death  was  being  spread  abroad  by  his  Venetian  en- 
emies, Carlo  Gozzi  wrote  a  sort  of  comic  almanac 

14  In  his  Memorle  inutili  Gozzi  gives  the  date  as  1757,  but  the  first 
edition  of  the  Tartana,  issued  in  Paris  at  the  expense  of  Daniele  Farsetti, 
the  patrician  to  whom  it  was  dedicated,  bears  the  date  1756. 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  409 

verse,  entitled  The  Tartan  of  Influxes  for  Leap 
Year  1756  (La  Tartana  degl'  influssi  per  I'anno  bi- 
sestile  1756),  in  which  he  set  forth  in  octaves  the 
various  impending  woes  of  Venice,  written,  as  he 
avers,  "in  strictly  literary  Tuscan, — in  a  style  inspired 
by  that  of  the  ancient  Tuscan  authors." 

Modelled  on  an  annual  almanac  for  country-folk 
issued  at  Treviso,  The  Tartan  was  supposed  to  bear  to 
Venice  its  monthly  influx  of  troubles.  February 
dealt  with  comedies,  November  with  Martellian 
verses,  and  for  December  the  speedy  return  from  Por- 
tugal of  Antonio  Sacchi,  the  harlequin,  and  his  com- 
rades was  invoked — a  desire  soon  fulfilled  owing  to 
the  great  earthquake  at  Lisbon.  In  a  sonnet  that 
ended  The  Tartan,  Goldoni  and  Chiari  were  men- 
ioned  by  name,  the  author  declaring  himself  the  inex- 
orable enemy  of  their  new-fangled  plays  and  the 
intrepid  friend  of  the  Improvised  Comedy.  Goaded 
by  this  attack,  Goldoni  so  far  departed  from  his  usual 
discretion  as  to  reply  in  some  occasional  verses  writ- 
ten to  welcome  a  friend  upon  his  return  from  a  rec- 
torship in  the  provinces,  wherein,  to  quote  Gozzi's 
aspersion,  "he  vented  this  commonplace  rigmarole" : 

In  print  I've  seen  a  Tartan  drag 

A  load  of  verses,  sour  and  dull 
Enough  to  terrify  a  hag; 

With  plagiarism  sauced  and  full 
Of  acrid  salt  and  arrogance. 

In  one  whose  luck  is  on  the  wane, 
Such  license  to  forgive,  perchance, 

Is  just,  when  fickle  fortune  fain 


4io  GOLDONI 

Would  turn  on  him.     Yet  he  who  speaks 

With  evil  argument  and  fails 
In  boastful  words,  with  pride  atune, 

To  prove  the  insolence  he  rails, 
Acts  like  a  dog  who  bays  the  moon. 

Upon  the  appearance  of  this  justifiable  answer 
to  The  Tartan,  a  battle  of  pamphlets,  sonnets,  and 
squibs  ensued  in  which  Gozzi,  "whose  heart,"  as  Sig- 
nor  Caprin  says,15  "was  partly  quixotic  and  partly 
ruffian,"  descended  to  obscenity  and  ribald  personali- 
ties, whereupon  Goldoni  pungently  and,  it  may  be 
added,  truthfully  dubbed  him : 

A  Lombard  acting  in  a  Cruscan's  part, 
Smiles  on  his  lip,  and  venom  in  his  heart.16 

The  part  Gozzi  is  here  accused  of  assuming,  is  that 
of  a  member  of  the  Accademia  della  Grusca,  which  in 
Florence  during  the  sixteenth  century  attacked  Tasso 
for  the  impurity  of  his  Italian.  Crusca  means  bran 
or  chaff,  and  the  symbol  of  this  academy  was  a  sieve, 
in  which  the  chaff  remained  after  the  good  flour,  or 
worthy  literary  products,  had  passed  through.  An- 
swering meekly  the  accusation  made  by  Gozzi  and  the 
Granelleschi,  that  he  was  neither  a  poet  nor  a  scholar, 
Goldoni  thus  alludes  to  the  sieve  through  which  Tas- 
so's  writings  had  been  maliciously  sifted : 

I  know  too  well  I'm  not  an  able  scribe 
And  that  from  worthy  founts  I  ne'er  imbibe: 

15  Op.  cit. 

16  In  La  Tavola  rotonda,  verses  written  on  the  occasion  of  the  wedding 
of  Pietro  Contarini  and  Maria  Venier.     In  Delll  Componimenti  diversi, 
Pasquali  ed.,  Vol.  II. 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  411 

As  reason  and  my  style  dictate,  I  write; 
And  pleasure,  by  good  luck,  I  oft  incite. 
Alas,  if  critics  through  trie  Tuscan  sieve 
Should  strain  my  humble  works,  they  could  not  live. 

To  this  Gozzi  replied  with  a  sonnet,  in  which  he 
stated  that  he  was  preparing  "a  commentary  that 
ld  prove  both  the  assumption  and  the  argument/' 
and  soon  he  circulated  throughout  Venice  a  satirical 
composition  entitled  The  Comic  Theatre  at  the  Pil- 
grim's  Inn,  handled  by  the  Granelleschian  A  cad- 
emicians  (II  Teatro  comic o  all'  Osteria  del  Pelle- 
grino  tra  le  mani  degli  accademici  granelleschi}. 
Conceived  in  an  Aristophanic  vein,  this  satire  repre- 
sents the  Granelleschi  dining  during  the  carnival  at 
the  Pilgrim's  Inn  in  the  Piazza  San  Marco,  where 
their  pleasures  are  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a 
monstrous  creature  wearing  a  mask  of  four  strongly 
marked  and  dissimilar  faces,  "each  typical  of  a  style 
of  comedy  written  by  Goldoni" — his  earlier  harle- 
quinades inspired  by  the  Improvised  Comedy,  his 
lachrymose  comedies  in  the  style  of  La  Chaussee,  his 
oriental  melodramas,  and  his  Venetian  naturalistic 
comedies.  In  the  monster's  belly  there  is  a  fifth 
mouth,  which  utters  Goldoni's  views,  as  Gozzi  meanly 
interprets  them,  and  in  the  dialogue  that  ensues,  this 
choleric  foe  endeavours  to  prove  that  Goldoni  "had 
striven  to  gain  popularity  rather  by  changing  the  as- 
pect of  his  wares  than  by  any  merit  they  really  pos- 
sessed." He  argued  unjustly  that  although  Goldoni 
displayed  talent  in  composing  Venetian  dialogue,  he 


4i2  GOLDONI 

nevertheless  incited  vice  "while  praising  virtue  with 
the  dulness  of  a  tiresome  sermon,"  his  plays  being 
"a  hundred  times  more  lascivious,  more  indecent,  and 
more  injurious  to  morals"  than  the  time-honoured 
mask  comedies  they  sought  to  supplant.  The  out- 
come Gozzi  thus  describes : 

The  monstrous  mask  defended  itself  but  poorly,  and  at  last  fell 
to  abusing  me  personally  with  all  its  four  mouths  at  once.  This 
did  not  serve  it ;  and  when  I  had  argued  it  down  and  exposed  it  to 
the  contempt  of  the  Granelleschi,  it  lifted  up  its  clothes  in  front 
and  exhibited  a  fifth  mouth,  which  it  carried  in  the  middle  of  its 
stomach.  This  fifth  allegorical  mouth  raised  up  its  voice  and 
wept,  declaring  itself  beaten,  and  begging  for  mercy.17 

The  proof  of  Gozzi's  bias  lies  in  the  charge  of 
obscenity  and  immorality  which  he  brings  against 
wholesome  Goldoni,  perhaps  the  most  moral  drama- 
tist of  all  time.  Gozzi's  cause  was  "the  purity  of 
literature,"  yet  when  he  began  to  write  for  the  stage 
himself,  he  displayed  more  obscenity  in  his  first  play 
than  is  to  be  found  in  all  his  rival's  comedies ;  while 
in  the  pasquinades  he  directed  against  his  foe,  he  de- 
scends to  a  baseness  and  indecency  wholly  foreign  to 
Goldoni's  finer  nature.  The  Comic  Theatre  at  the 
Pilgrim's  Inn  was  deemed  so  ribald  that  its  author 
was  urged  to  withdraw  it  from  circulation,  a  request 
in  which  he  acquiesced  reluctantly,  while  continuing 
to  bombard  both  Goldoni  and  Chiari  with  shorter 
diatribes.  Chiari  challenged  Gozzi  and  the  Gran- 
elleschi to  produce  a  play.  Hunger  drove  Goldoni 

17  Memorle  inutili,  translated  by  J.  A.  Symonds. 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  413 

and  Chiari  to  the  writing  of  comedies,  Gozzi  re- 
torted, and  since  the  Granelleschi  were  not  hungry, 
it  was  not  necessary  for  them  to  become  playwrights ; 
whereupon  Chiari,  making  common  cause  with  Gol- 
doni,  addressed  him  as  "most  worthy  bard  of  comedy 
and  poet-friend,"  a  compliment  Goldoni  repaid  in 
kind,  though  not  without  a  tinge  of  irony,  in  these 
verses : 

You  are  the  eagle  proud, 

The  ant  am  I : 

E'en  to  the  highest  cloud 

With  ease  you  fly; 

My  muse  ill  bears  the  strain, 

The  cardinal  points  to  gain. 

Chiari,  whose  star  was  waning,  was  eager  to  league 
himself  with  Goldoni;  and  in  the  Gazzetta  Veneta, 
of  which  he  had  become  the  editor,18  he  averred  that 
he  and  his  rival  "might  be  seen  walking  together  in 
the  public  piazza  and  sitting  in  the  most  frequented 
coffee-houses."  Although  Goldoni  and  he  had  "ap- 
parently been  foes,"  he  contended  that  "even  in  the 
councils  of  Apollo  politics  were  known";  hence, 
"what  appeared  to  be  opposition  and  enmity  was 
merely  laudable  rivalry,"  planned  by  Goldoni  and 
himself  for  the  purpose  of  getting  "more  followers  for 
their  respective  flags,  more  money  in  their  theatres, 
and  more  applause  from  the  world."  "Who  will 
deny,"  he  continues,  "that  their  enmity  was  a  fine 
piece  of  politics?" 

This  subtle  explanation  of  a  quarrel  that  had  lasted 

18  Achilla  Neri  in  the  Ateneo  veneto,  Jan.-Feb.,  1907. 


4i4  GOLDONI 

ten  years  coincides  with  Symonds's  suggestion  that 
"the  alliance  these  dramatists  had  struck  took  off  con- 
siderably from  their  vogue."  In  the  dramatic  race, 
however,  Chiari  had  been  distanced ;  therefore,  by  be- 
coming the  victor's  ally,  he  was  able  to  advertise 
himself  again ;  for  in  spite  of  Gozzi's  attacks,  the  play- 
goers still  flocked  to  see  Goldoni's  comedies.  More- 
over, the  latter's  fame  had  spread  not  only  through- 
out Italy,  but  abroad  as  well,  Voltaire  having  already 
enlisted  in  his  cause.  A  finer  and  a  fairer  critic  than 
Gozzi,  this  great  Frenchman  had  divined  Goldoni's 
naturalistic  genius,  for  while  the  Venetian  war  of 
diatribes  was  at  its  height,  he  had  indited  these  verses 
in  a  letter  to  the  Marquis  Albergati-Capacelli  (June 
19,  1760),  which  this  admirer  of  Goldoni  permitted 
to  be  published  in  the  Gazzetta  Veneta: 

On  baiting  noted  men  of  parts 

They  plume  themselves  in  cultured  lands. 

Goldoni  sees  abusive  darts 

Aimed  at  his  friends  by  critics'  hands. 

They  know  not  by  what  gauge  to  test 
The  value  of  his  works;  in  fact 
In  this  procedure  they  request 
Dame  Nature  as  the  judge  to  act. 

Thus  Nature  ably  judged  the  cause 
'Twixt  critics  who  could  not  agree: 
Though  every  author  has  his  flaws, 
This  man  Goldoni  pictured  me." 

When  Goldoni  thus  became  an  international  figure, 
Gozzi  whetted  his  knife  anew.     It  behoved  him  to 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  415 

act  with  more  aggressiveness;  therefore,  he  boldly 
planned  to  attack  his  enemy  upon  his  own  ground, — 
the  stage.  "The  dropping  fire  that  had  been  ex- 
changed between  their  partisans,"  says  Gozzi,  "kept 
the  names  and  fames  of  Goldoni  and  Chiari  before 
the  public."  As  both  "professed  themselves  cham- 
pions of  theatrical  reform,"  and  as  their  aim,  as  he 
states  it,  was  to  "cut  the  throat  of  the  innocent  Corn- 
media  delT  arte"  Gozzi  felt  that  he  "could  not  casti- 
gate the  arrogance  of  these  self-styled  Menanders  bet- 
ter than  by  taking  his  old  friends  Truffaldino, 
Tartaglia,  Brighella,  Pantalone,  and  Smeraldina  un- 
der his  protection." 

The  headquarters  of  the  Granelleschi  were  in  the 
bookshop  of  Paolo  Colombani,  where  every  month 
they  issued  under  the  title  of  Atti  granelleschi  a  series 
of  critical  and  satirical  papers,  which  "drew  crowds 
of  purchasers  round  Colombani's  counter."  There 
Gozzi  opened  fire,  so  he  says,  "with  a  dithyrambic 
poem,  praising  the  extempore  comedians,  and  com- 
paring their  gay  farces  favourably  with  the  dull  and 
heavy  pieces  of  the  reformers."  One  day,  accord- 
ing to  Baretti,19  Goldoni  and  Gozzi  "met  in  a  book- 
shop," which  probably  was  Colombani's,  "the  oc- 
casion being  propitious  for  the  venting  of  satirical 
bile."  Both  Baretti  and  Gozzi  accuse  Goldoni 
of  boastful  arrogance  during  the  verbal  affray  that 
ensued;  yet,  both  being  his  enemies,  it  seems 
likely  that  their  evidence  is  considerably  col- 

19  An  Account  of  the  Manners  and  Customs  of  Italy. 


4i6  GOLDONI 

oured  by  their  spleen.20  "Goldoni  called  me  a  ver- 
bose word-monger,"  Gozzi  avers,  "and  kept  asserting 
that  the  enormous  crowds  that  flocked  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  his  plays  constituted  a  convincing  proof  of 
their  essential  merit,  it  being  one  thing  to  compose 
verbal  criticisms,  and  quite  another  to  write  plays 
which  will  fill  theatres  with  enthusiastic  audiences." 
"Vexed  by  this  appeal  to  popular  judgment,"  says 
Gozzi,  "I  uttered  the  deliberate  opinion  that  crowded 
theatres  proved  nothing  with  regard  to  the  goodness 
or  badness  of  the  plays  which  people  came  to  see ;  and 
I  further  staked  my  reputation  on  drawing  more  folk 
together  than  he  could  do  with  all  his  scenic  tricks, 
by  simply  putting  the  old  wives'  fairy-story  of  the 
Love  of  the  Three  Oranges  upon  the  boards."  21 

Undaunted  by  the  incredulous  laughter  that  greeted 
his  quixotic  challenge,  Gozzi,  "to  vindicate  the  hon- 
our of  the  Granelleschi,"  wrote  a  fantastic  piece 
around  the  old  wives'  tale  in  question,  which  with  his 
vaunted  disregard  for  royalties,  he  presented  to 
Sacchi  who,  since  his  return  from  Portugal,  had  been 
giving  mask  comedies  in  Venice  with  ill  success. 
This  actor  produced  it  during  the  Carnival  of  1761, 
at  the  San  Samuele  theatre,  where  it  created,  accord- 
ing to  its  author,  "such  a  sudden  and  noisy  revolution 
of  taste,  that  Chiari  and  Goldoni  saw  in  it  the  sentence 
of  their  doom." 

20Baretti  being  in  England  at  the  time,  writes  from  hearsay  knowl- 
edge, while  Gozzi's  account  was  penned  years  after  the  event. 

21  Memorie  inutili,  translated  by  J.  A.  Symonds,  whose  admirable  Eng- 
lish renderings  of  Gozzi  have  been  used  throughout  this  chapter. 


GOLDONI  IN  COLOMBANI'S  BOOK  SHOP 


Collection    of   Professor   Italic o   Brass 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  417 

The  Love  of  the  Three  Oranges  (L'Amore  delle 
ire  melarancie),  as  Gozzi  styled  his  play,  was  a  Nea- 
politan fairy  tale,  translated  to  the  stage  in  the  man- 
ner made  familiar  to  English  audiences  by  Christmas 
pantomimes,  except  that  the  masks,  instead  of  ap- 
pearing in  a  mute  harlequinade  after  the  story  has 
been  told,  are  characters  in  the  play  itself,  Pantalone 
being  a  king's  adviser;  Brighella,  or  the  modern 
clown,  a  prince's  servant;  Truffaldino,  or  Harlequin, 
a  jester;  and  Smeraldina,  or  Columbine,  an  intriguing 
Moorish  maid.  Another  of  the  characters  of  the  Im- 
provised Comedy,  Tartaglia,  the  stammerer,  is  a  mel- 
ancholy prince  whose  father,  Silvio,  King  of  Dia- 
monds, rules  an  imaginary  realm,  his  minister  being 
Lelio,  the  Knave  of  Diamonds,  a  villain  who  plots 
Prince  Tartaglia's  death  in  order  that  he  may  marry 
Princess  Clarice,  the  king's  niece,  and  inherit  the 
throne. 

The  people  of  Venice  who,  on  a  carnival  night 
were  attracted  to  the  San  Samuele  theatre  by  the 
strange  announcement  that  a  familiar  nursery  tale  was 
to  be  staged,  were  taken,  as  Philippe  Monnier  says,22 
"to  the  land  where  everything  happens,  where  the 
Blue  Bird  nests."  When  the  curtain  rose,  the  King 
of  Diamonds,  dressed  as  they  had  seen  him  on  their 
playing-cards,  was  discovered  in  consultation  with 
time-honoured  Pantalone  about  a  mysterious  malady 
that  prevented  Prince  Tartaglia  from  laughing  and 
was  slowly  encompassing  his  death.  The  prince  had 

22  Op.  cit. 


418  GOLDONI 

been  poisoned,  said  Pantalone,  by  Lelio's  agent,  Fata 
Morgana,  the  sorceress,  with  charms  in  Martellian 
Verse, — a  hit  at  Chiari  and  Goldoni,  whose  Martellian 
verses  "bored  every  one  to  death,"  Gozzi  said,  "by 
their  monotonous  rhyme."  As  an  antidote  to  the 
morbid  influences  of  Martellian  verse,  Fata  Mor- 
gana's  enemy,  the  wizard  Celio,  sends  to  King  Silvio's 
court  the  jester,  Truffaldino,  the  mere  sight  of  whom 
was  sure  to  provoke  laughter.  Fata  Morgana,  the 
sorceress,  and  Celio,  the  wizard,  were  caricatures  of 
Chiari  and  Goldoni  respectively,  and  their  hostility 
symbolizes  the  warfare  that  had  waged  for  so  many 
years  between  the  two  dramatists.  When  Truffal- 
dino  tried  unsuccessfully  to  make  the  prince  laugh, 
to  quote  GozzPs  own  vulgarity  in  evidence  of  his  mal- 
ice: 

He  smelt  the  prince's  breath,  and  swore  that  it  stank  of  a  sur- 
feit of  undigested  Martellian  verses.  The  prince  coughed  and 
asked  to  be  allowed  to  spit.  Truffaldino  brought  him  a  vessel, 
examined  the  expectoration  and  found  it  a  mass  of  rancid,  rotten 
rhymes. 

All  through  this  extravaganza,  or  theatrical  fable 
(fiaba  teatrale),  as  Gozzi  styled  his  dramatic  form, 
there  were  coarse  thrusts  at  Goldoni  and  Chiari ;  but 
the  audience,  even  if  it  cared  little  for  its  rancour, 
delighted  in  its  whimsicalities,  its  medley  of  harle- 
quinades, satire,  and  nursery  tales,  for  side  by  side 
with  Gozzi's  attack  upon  his  enemies  a  tale  of  en- 
chantment was  unfolded.  Melancholy  Prince  Tar- 
taglia,  shod  with  a  pair  of  magic  iron  shoes,  sets  forth 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  419 

with  Truffaldino  in  search  of  the  three  oranges  which, 
as  he  had  heard  his  grandmother  say,  were  two  thou- 
sand miles  away,  in  the  power  of  Creonta,  a  gigantic 
witch.  Tartaglia  and  Truffaldino  are  wafted  by  a 
mighty  wind  to  her  domain;  where  after  a  series  of 
strange  adventures  Truffaldino  succeeds  in  plucking 
the  three  oranges,  which  he  had  been  charged  by 
Celio,  the  wizard,  not  to  open,  except  within  reach 
of  water.  When  he  cuts  the  first,  a  beautiful  maiden 
is  born,  who  withers  and  dies  for  lack  of  a  drink, 
and  in  his  anxiety  to  slake  her  thirst,  he  cuts  the  sec- 
ond orange  and  liberates  another  maiden,  who  like- 
wise breathes  her  last. 

Just  when  Truffaldino  is  on  the  point  of  cutting  the 
third  orange  in  the  hope  that  its  juice  will  revive  the 
two  maidens  who  have  perished,  Prince  Tartaglia 
wrenches  it  from  his  grasp,  carries  it  to  the  shore  of 
a  lake,  opens  it  with  the  point  of  his  sword,  and 
quenches  the  thirst  of  the  enchanted  princess  appear- 
ing from  its  rind,  with  water  borne  to  her  rosy  lips 
in  one  of  his  magic  shoes.  He  marries  her,  it  is  need- 
less to  add,  after  outwitting  all  his  enemies,  Truffal- 
dino being  charged  by  Celio,  the  wizard,  "to  keep 
Martellian  verses,  those  inventions  of  the  devil,  out 
of  all  dishes  served  at  the  royal  board."  Then,  to 
quote  the  petulant  author  of  this  fantasy: 

The  play  wound  up  with  that  marriage  festival  which  all  chil- 
dren know  by  heart — the  banquet  of  preserved  radishes,  skinned 
mice,  stewed  cats,  and  so  forth.  And  inasmuch  as  the  journalists 
were  wont  in  those  days  to  blow  their  trumpets  of  applause  over 


420  GOLDONI 

every  new  work  which  appeared  from  Signor  Goldoni's  pen,  we 
concluded  with  an  epilogue,  in  which  the  spectators  were  besought 
to  use  all  their  influence  with  these  journalists,  in  order  that  a 
crumb  of  eulogy  might  be  bestowed  upon  our  rigmarole  of  mystical 
absurdities. 

The  fight  between  Gozzi  and  Goldoni,  which  cul- 
minated in  the  production  of  The  Love  of  the  Three 
Oranges,  was  really  a  preliminary  skirmish  in  the 
long  war  that  soon  waged  throughout  Europe  be- 
tween classicism  and  romanticism,  for  although  Gozzi 
was  inspired  by  a  conservative  love  of  the  old  Impro- 
vised Comedy,  the  fiabesque  drama  by  which  he 
expressed  it  was  superlatively  romantic;  whereas 
Goldoni's  naturalistic  comedies  were  classic  in  their 
simplicity  and  truth.  Though  his  admiration  for 
linguistic  purity  was  pedantic,  Gozzi  taxed  his  inven- 
tiveness in  order  to  appear  formless,  the  supernatural 
being  his  element,  poetry  his  passion,  and  pure  enter- 
tainment his  object.  Goldoni  on  the  other  hand, 
though  in  nowise  a  bookish  man,  conformed  more 
closely  to  classicism.  Being  an  observer  who  loved 
human  nature,  he  served  the  truth  and  sought  at  the 
same  time  to  further  morality  by  teaching  wholesome 
lessons,  differing  thereby  mainly  in  sublimity  of  sub- 
ject and  loftiness  of  expression  from  the  dramatists 
of  ancient  Greece.  Gozzi,  however,  did  not  declare 
himself  the  purely  romantic  poet  he  has  been  ac- 
claimed to  be  by  romantic  enthusiasts  in  Germany 
and  France,  his  romanticism  being  the  unconscious 
outcome  of  his  spleen,  as  well  as  of  his  satirical  sense 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  421 

of  humour;  since  in  the  avidity  with  which  he  pur- 
sued Goldoni  and  Chiari — his  Euripides  and  Aga- 
thon — he  was,  as  Symonds  has  pointed  out,23  "a  Vene- 
tian Aristophanes  whose  crusade  against  the  stage  of 
his  day  was  not  set  on  foot  to  further  the  cause  of 
romantic  beauty,  but  rather  to  assuage  his  own  milW 
tant  sarcasm." 

Those  who  saw  for  the  first  time  The  Love  of  the 
Three  Oranges,  found  in  it  a  novelty  as  appealing 
to  their  mystic  sense  as  the  symbolized  moral  plati- 
tudes of  Maeterlinck's  Blue  Bird  are  to  modern  au- 
diences; yet  Scala's  extravaganzas  had  satisfied  in  the 
previous  century  a  similar  fondness  for  elaborate 
stage  effects  and  fairy  mysticism,  a  proof  that  nothing 
under  the  theatrical  sun  is  really  new.  The  incon- 
stant Venetians,  so  Baretti  testifies,  forgot  the  eager- 
ness with  which  they  had  once  acclaimed  Goldoni  and 
Chiari  "in  order  to  mock  them  while  loudly  applaud- 
ing The  Three  Oranges";  and  nightly  the  San  Samu- 
ele  theatre  was  packed  to  its  doors,  while  Goldoni's 
former  associates,  Antonio  Sacchi  and  Cesare 
D'Arbes,  made  light  of  him. 

For  several  years  Gozzi  continued  to  delight  his 
countrymen  with  his  whimsicalities,  The  Love  of  the 
Three  Oranges  being  followed  by  nine  other  theatri- 
cal fables  from  his  fanciful  pen.24  Meanwhile,  Giu- 

23  Op.  cit. 

24 //  Corvo,  1761;  //  Re  cervo,  Turandot,  La  Donna  serpente  (original 
of  Wagner's  Die  Feen),  all  of  1762;  Zobeide,  1763;  I  Pitocchi  fortunati 
and  //  Mostro  turchino,  of  1764;  UAngellino  belverde,  and  Zeim,  re  de* 
genii,  of  1765. 


422  GOLDONI 

seppe  Baretti,  the  friend  of  Johnson  and  Garrick,  re- 
turned to  his  native  land  and  established  in  Venice  a 
short-lived,  venomous  review,  to  which  he  gave  the 
testy  name  of  Literary  Scourge  (Frusta  letterana). 
An  apostle  of  romanticism  and  the  panegyrist  of 
Shakespeare,  this  "Italian  Lessing"  divined  in  the 
half  real,  half  fantastic  theatrical  fables  of  his  fellow 
Granelleschian  a  certain  affinity  with  Shakespeare's 
fanciful  comedies,  such  as  The  Tempest,  which  made 
their  author  appear  to  his  biased  mind  the  greatest 
dramatic  poet  of  Italy.  Meanwhile  he  lashed  Gol- 
doni,  the  naturalist,  whom  Voltaire,  his  foe,  had  ex- 
alted: "the  most  vulgar  of  Italian  writers,  seeking  to 
play  the  philosopher  and  moralist  without  having 
studied  either  philosophy  or  morals,"  "a  poisoner  of 
the  public,"  "a  parrot  who  repeats  what  he  does  not 
understand,"  being  part  of  the  opprobrium  Baretti 
applied  to  the  author  of  The  Boors  and  The  Chiog- 
glan  Brawls.  Goldoni's  art  was  too  simple  and  nat- 
ural to  be  understood  by  the  critics  of  that  artificial 
century.  Only  a  few  broad-minded  men,  such  as  Vol- 
taire and  Cesarotti,  a  Paduan  poet  and  man  of  letters, 
were  able  to  view  it  justly. 

But  the  pacific  man,  to  whom  the  long  literary  war- 
fare he  had  been  forced  against  his  will  to  wage  was 
a  bitter  torment,  had  fled  to  France  before  Baretti 
began  to  lash  him  in  his  Literary  Scourge.2*  About 
the  time  Carlo  Gozzi's  theatrical  fables  began  to  wean 

25  Baretti  did  not  begin  publishing  The  Scourge  until  the  autumn  of 
1762,  and  in  the  spring  of  that  year  Goldoni  had  already  left  Venice. 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  423 

his  countrymen  from  their  love  for  him,  Goldoni  was 
offered  a  two  years'  engagement  as  playwright  by 
Les  Comedlens  du  roi  de  la  troupe  italienne,  who 
since  Moliere's  day  had  been  playing  in  Paris  at  the 
Hotel  de  Bourgogne.  This  invitation,  which  was 
transmitted  to  him  officially  by  the  French  ambassa- 
dor in  Venice,  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  retreat 
with  honour  from  the  field  where  his  arch-enemy  had 
triumphed.  He  foresaw  that  to  expatriate  himself, 
even  for  so  short  a  period  as  two  years,  would  make 
it  hard  for  him  ever  to  compete  again  for  the  favour 
of  the  Venetian  public ;  yet,  after  delighting  his  coun- 
trymen with  fully  a  hundred  comedies  during  the 
fourteen  arduous  years  he  had  served  them,  he  saw 
them  desert  en  masse  to  his  enemy's  camp  the  moment 
the  banner  of  novelty  was  unfolded  there.  As  Gol- 
doni himself  says,  his  position  was  precarious.  He 
tried  in  vain  to  secure  a  legal  preferment,  and  like- 
wise a  pension  from  the  Venetian  republic,  to  support 
him  during  "the  sad  days  of  old  age" ;  all  he  could 
obtain  was  a  suspension  for  "the  period  of  his  stay  in 
France"  of  a  ten  years'  contract  he  had  signed  with 
Vendramin  in  1756 ;  whereupon,  having  received  per- 
mission of  his  patron,  the  Duke  of  Parma,  to  leave 
Italy,  he  accepted  the  French  engagement,  and  pre- 
pared to  set  out  for  Paris. 

Soon  the  rumour  spread  throughout  the  coffee- 
houses and  casini  that  "papa  Goldoni"  was  about  to 
leave  Venice.  When  he  heard  this  welcome  news, 
Carlo  Gozzi  was  probably  not  obliged  to  tickle  him- 


424  GOLDONI 

self  in  order  to  smile;  but  the  valiant  man  he  had 
vanquished  did  not  retire  from  the  field  of  his  defeat 
in  a  spirit  of  rancour.  Loving  his  inconstant  fellow- 
countrymen  too  dearly  to  bear  them  any  ill  will,  Gol- 
doni  wrote  as  his  farewell  to  them  one  of  those  natur- 
alistic plays  in  the  Venetian  dialect,  that  are  peculiar 
to  his  genius. 

Though  he  called  it  One  of  the  Last  Evenings  of  the 
Carnival  (Una  delle  ultime  sere  dl  carnovale),  this 
simple  picture  of  Venetian  life  belies  its  name,  since, 
instead  of  carnival  joy,  a  spirit  of  sadness  pervades 
it.  This  dramatic  trifle  is  not  a  play,  but  rather  an 
allegory,  in  which  the  author  symbolizes  his  depar- 
ture from  the  land  of  his  birth.  The  story  is  con- 
cerned with  the  fortunes  of  Anzoletto,  a  designer  of 
patterns  for  silk  fabrics,  who  receives  the  offer  of  a 
remunerative  engagement  abroad,  which  he  reluc- 
tantly accepts.  With  a  heavy  heart  he  bids  farewell 
to  the  weavers  for  whose  looms  he  has  so  long  de- 
signed the  patterns;  and  to  the  Venetians  who  at- 
tended its  first  performance  the  allegory  that  lies  in 
this  simple  picture  of  Venetian  life  was  evident. 
The  weavers  symbolized  the  actors  of  the  San  Luca 
theatre,  and  the  designer  of  patterns,  the  dramatist 
himself,  now  called  to  labour  in  a  foreign  land. 
When  the  actor  playing  Anzoletto  turned  to  his  com- 
rades upon  the  stage  and  lisped  these  lines,  tears  must 
have  welled  in  the  eyes  of  many  a  zentlldonna  who 
had  belittled  Goldoni  to  her  circle  of  friends,  and 


RIVALS  AND  CRITICS  425 

many  a  pamphleteer  must  have  blushed  for  the  abuse 
he  had  heaped  upon  his  devoted  head: 

Forget  this  country,  this  my  beloved  native  land  ?  Forget  my  pa- 
trons, my  dear  friends  ?  This  is  not  the  first  time  that  I  have  gone 
away,  and  wherever  I  have  been,  I  have  always  carried  the  name  of 
Venice  engraven  on  my  heart.  I  have  always  remembered  the  fa- 
vours, the  kindnesses  I  have  received ;  I  have  ever  longed  to  return, 
and  when  I  have  returned,  it  has  always  been  a  consolation.  Every 
comparison  I  have  had  occasion  to  draw  has  made  my  country  seem 
more  beautiful,  more  splendid,  and  more  worthy  of  respect.  Each 
time  I  returned  I  discovered  new  beauties,  and  so  it  will  be  this 
time,  if  Heaven  permits  me  to  return.  I  swear  upon  my  honour 
that  I  leave  with  a  tortured  heart;  that  no  attraction,  no  good 
fortune  I  may  meet,  will  compensate  for  being  far  from  those  who 
wish  me  well.  Preserve  your  love  for  me,  dear  friends,  and  may 
heaven  bless  you.  I  say  so  from  the  heart. 

Touched  by  the  fervour  of  this  farewell  speech, 
friend  and  foe  alike  arose  as  one  man  on  that  Shrove 
Tuesday  evening  of  the  year  1762,  to  shout:  "Good- 
bye, Goldoni !  A  lucky  journey  to  you !  Remember 
your  promise!  Don't  fail  to  come  back!"  The 
weary  dramatist  to  whom  these  Venetians,  ere  they 
mingled  in  mask  and  domino  with  the  carnival 
throng  outside,  shouted  a  fond  farewell,  burst  into 
tears  as  he  stood  listening  in  the  wings  to  their  friendly 
shouts.  "Come  back,  Goldoni!  Don't  fail  to  come 
back!"  cried  the  laggards,  as  the  crowd  filed  out  of  the 
San  Luca  theatre;  but  the  disheartened  man  of  fifty- 
five,  who  stood  alone  upon  the  stage,  though  he  wept 
while  the  lean  candle-snuffers  put  out  the  lights,  and 
fondly  prayed  that  he  might  return,  never  saw  his 


426  GOLDONI 

beloved  Venice  again.  One  of  the  Last  Evenings  of 
the  Carnival  was  the  name  he  had  chosen  for  the 
touching  allegory  with  which  he  bade  farewell  to  the 
city  of  his  love.  "Shunless  destiny"  made  it  the  last 
he  was  to  enjoy  in  his  native  land.  But  before  the 
story  of  the  thirty  years  he  passed  in  France  is  told,  an 
account  must  be  given  of  the  plays  he  wrote  in  verse 
during  the  fourteen  years  he  served  Medebac  and 
the  Vendramins ;  for  in  some  of  these  he  rebuked  the 
rivals  and  critics  whose  bitterness  had  driven  him 
into  exile. 


XIII 

COMEDIES  IN  VERSE 

IF  the  authorship  of  two  thousand  or  more  plays 
was  not  attributed  to  Lope  de  Vega,  and  to  Alex- 
andre  Hardy  that  of  fully  six  hundred,  Goldoni, 
in  the  language  of  the  day,  would  hold  the  world's 
record  in  dramaturgy.  Although  his  output  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  or  more  dramatic  pieces  is  dwarfed 
by  the  work  of  these  progenitors  of  the  Spanish  and 
French  drama,  themselves  contemporaneous,  his 
fecundity  is  astonishing,  ay,  even  appalling,  to  the 
reader  of  the  present  day,  accustomed  to  regard 
Shakespeare  and  Moliere  as  prolific  dramatists.  In- 
deed his  comedies  in  verse,  which  form  the  subject 
of  the  present  chapter,  fairly  vie  in  number  with 
all  the  plays  of  the  one,  and  equal  those  of  the  other. 
In  this  count,  moreover,  his  tragedies,  operas,  inter- 
ludes, and  merry  plays  for  music,  all  of  which  are 
metrical,  are  not  included,  while  his  occasional  verse 
alone  exceeds  in  quantity  the  work  of  many  a  modern 
poet. 

The  object  of  poetry  being  to  create  intellectual 
pleasure  by  means  of  either  imagery  or  passionate 
language,  Goldoni's  verse  may  seldom  be  called 
poetry.  It  is  simple  and  natural,  yet  so  scantily 

427 


428  GOLDONI 

adorned  with  imagery  that  its  prosaic  nakedness  is 
ill  concealed.  Passion  such  as  Moliere  voiced  in 
Alceste,  his  misanthrope,  is  foreign  to  Goldoni's 
merry  soul;  therefore  it  seems  futile  to  regard  this 
genial  Venetian  in  the  light  of  a  true  poet.  Indeed, 
he  is  merely  a  nimble  versifier,  who  wrote  plays  in 
metrical  form  whenever  theatrical  exigencies  de- 
manded them,  or  whenever  he  felt  called  upon  to  imi- 
tate French  refinement.  His  occasional  verse,  more- 
over, was  written  to  repay  obligations,  rather  than 
to  express  the  feelings  of  a  heart  overflowing  with 
sentiment.  Like  the  verse  of  his  comedies  it  was 
penned,  as  if  to  order,  whenever  there  was  a  marriage 
in  the  family  of  some  friend  or  patron,  or  whenever 
the  daughter  of  such  a  family  took  the  veil. 

Although  the  stanzas  of  these  occasional  verses 
teem  with  trite  praise  of  benefactors,  Goldoni's  nat- 
uralism now  and  then  appears; — in  The  Gondola 
(La  Gondola],  for  instance,  a  humorous  dialogue  be- 
tween a  Florentine  coachman  and  a  Venetian  gondo- 
lier concerning  the  marriage  of  one  of  GoldonPs  pa- 
trons, and  in  The  Padua  Packet  (II  Burchiello  di 
Padova)  written  in  honour  of  the  wedding  of  an- 
other. In  the  latter  the  author,  taking  passage  on  a 
boat  that  plies  upon  the  placid  Brenta,  describes  his 
fellow-voyagers  so  truly  and  converses  with  them 
so  ingenuously,  that  the  reader  feels  himself  to  be 
aboard  that  Padua  packet,  pulled  by  the  swarthy 
oarsmen  of  the  remurchio,  or  towboat,  along  "the 
tranquil  and  serene  lagoon."  Yet  the  reader  must 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  429 

turn  many  a  commonplace  page  of  this  occasional 
verse  before  his  weary  attention  is  rested  by  such  de- 
lights as  this;  turn,  too,  many  pages  of  affected  verse 
delivered  before  the  Arcadian  academies  of  Rome, 
Pisa,  and  Bologna.  Here  Goldoni  joined  "Arcadia 
itself,  its  legion  of  poets,  its  bevies  of  shepherdesses, 
— semi-nymphs,  semi-nuns — its  naiads,  fauns,  and 
pythian  priestesses,"  and  with  them  "faded  into  the 
inane  from  which  like  a  vapour  they  had  emerged."  1 
In  justice  it  must  be  said  that  apparently  he  did  not 
take  these  occasional  poems  seriously.  In  the  pref- 
ace to  the  volume  in  which  they  appear,  he  says  that 
they  are  merely  "pleasantries  in  verse,  improperly 
termed  poems;  for  Divine  Poetry  should  be  treated 
differently,  and  I  love  and  venerate  her  too  much  to 
misuse  her  name  and  charming  attributes."  This 
may  be  only  becoming  modesty;  yet  his  own  estimates 
of  his  plays  are  so  frankly  made  in  the  pages  of  his 
memoirs,  that  it  seems  unfair  to  suspect  him  of  a 
sneaking  regard  for  efforts  one  is  glad  to  join  him  in 
dismissing  as  "merely  pleasantries  in  verse." 

His  comedies  in  verse  may  be  taken  more  seriously, 
for  here  he  stands  upon  more  solid  ground.  True, 
he  never  rises  to  poetic  heights,  even  in  these  plays ; 
yet  unadorned  as  his  dramatic  verses  are  with  ima- 
gery and  passion,  they  are  neatly  turned  at  times  and 
frequently  disclose  the  naturalistic  qualities  on  which 
his  fame  most  surely  rests.  Like  his  comedies  in 
prose,  they  were  written  at  fever-heat,  therefore  their 

1  William  Roscoe  Thayer:  op.  cit. 


430  GOLDONI 

lines  are  often  slovenly  and  in  the  main  are  little  more 
than  rhymed  prose ;  nevertheless  a  few  of  his  comedies 
in  verse,  notably  those  penned  in  the  Venetian  dia- 
lect, vie  in  spontaneity  and  truth  to  nature  with  his 
best  prose  comedies.  As  in  the  case  of  his  dramatic 
work  in  prose,  he  is  at  his  highest  when  painting  the 
life  of  Venice,  and  at  his  lowest  when  trying  to  imi- 
tate Moliere,  or  the  French  refinement  of  his  own 
day.  His  comedies  in  verse  fall  naturally,  too,  into 
the  categories  into  which  the  prose  comedies  have 
been  divided  in  the  present  work — Exotic  Comedies, 
Comedies  of  the  Aristocracy,  Comedies  of  the  Bour- 
geoisie, and  Comedies  in  the  Venetian  Dialect 

Three  of  the  comedies  in  verse,  however,  stand 
apart  from  any  of  the  prose  comedies  in  that  they 
treat  of  the  lives  of  classic  poets.  Called  respect- 
ively Moliere  (II  Moliere),  Terence  (II  Terenzio), 
and  Torquato  Tasso  (II  Torquato  Tasso),  these  three 
comedies,  by  far  the  most  ambitious  of  all  Goldoni 
penned,  show  more  conclusively  than  any,  that,  how- 
ever fluent  as  a  versifier,  he  was  not  a  poet  in  the 
true  sense.  Having  chosen  such  exalted  subjects  he 
should  have  soared  to  the  empyrean;  yet  though  he 
laboured  painfully  to  rise,  the  very  weight  of  his 
task  kept  him  hovering  near  the  prosy  earth  he  had 
not  the  ability  to  leave  entirely. 

Though  in  subject  chronologically  the  last,  Mo- 
liere was  the  first  of  these  biographical  comedies  to 
be  penned.  Being  considered  fully  in  a  later 
chapter,  the  plot  and  poetical  attributes  of  this  play 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  431 

about  the  foremost  of  French  dramatists  may  be  dis- 
regarded here.  A  word,  however,  concerning  its 
metrical  form  is  not  amiss,  particularly  as  the  Mar- 
tellian  measure  adopted  by  Goldoni  on  this  occasion 
was  subsequently  used  by  him  many  times,  it  being 
the  Italian  form  most  closely  resembling  the  Alex- 
andrine measure  of  the  French  classical  comedy  he 
sought  to  emulate. 

This  measure  takes  its  name  from  Pier  lacopo 
Martelli,  an  Italian  poet  who  at  the  time  of  Goldoni's 
birth  occupied  the  chair  of  belles-lettres  at  the  uni- 
versity of  Bologna.  A  glib  writer  in  several  forms 
of  literature,  he  came  under  French  influence  so  com- 
pletely during  a  visit  to  Paris  in  1713,  that  he  was 
reproached  with  Gallicism  by  his  fellow-countrymen 
for  introducing  into  his  tragedies  the  measure  that 
now  bears  his  name.  The  Martellian  metre,  how- 
ever, though  it  resembles  the  Alexandrine  in  its  har- 
monious rhythm,  has  one  more  foot  than  its  French 
prototype.  As  it  consists  of  fourteen  syllables,  it  sug- 
gests the  English  ballad  measure,  though  the  metrical 
value  of  the  syllable  is  so  different  in  the  two  lan- 
guages that  the  resemblance  is  numerical  rather  than 
quantitative. 

Although  Martelli  defended  himself  against  the 
charge  of  Gallicism  by  maintaining  that  the  measure 
he  had  adopted  was  the  invention  of  Ciullo  d'Alcamo, 
a  Sicilian  poet  of  the  thirteenth  century,  he  was 
nevertheless  belittled  by  his  contemporaries,  who  re- 
fused to  accept  the  new  measure  as  an  Italian  form« 


432  GOLDONI 

Twenty-four  years  after  Martelli's  death,2  Goldoni,  in 
casting  about  for  a  form  in  which  to  express  the  sor- 
rowful love-story  of  the  French  Master,  chose  the 
Martellian  metre  as  best  suggesting  French  atmos- 
phere. "The  Martellian  verse  had  been  forgotten," 
he  says.  "The  monotony  of  the  caesura,  and  of  the  too 
frequent  and  always  coupled  rhymes  had  already 
disgusted  Italian  ears,  even  during  the  author's  life- 
time; hence  every  one  was  prejudiced  against  me,  for 
presuming  to  revivify  verses  that  had  already  been 
proscribed.  But  the  effect  overcame  the  prejudice. 
My  verses  gave  as  much  pleasure  as  the  play,  and 
Moliere  was  placed  by  public  opinion  beside 
Pamela." 

If  this  be  true,  the  public  was  as  much  in  error  as 
Goldoni,  both  Moliere  and  Pamela  being  plays  in 
which  our  Venetian's  genius  is  little  manifest.  Rather 
does  one  agree  with  the  late  Giosue  Carducci,  Italy's 
foremost  modern  poet,  in  his  following  estimates  both 
of  the  Martellian  measure  and  of  Goldoni's  prosaic 
use  of  it: 

With  a  style  at  once  colourful,  strong,  and  passionate,  such  as 
Martelli's  is  occasionally,  the  Alexandrine  succeeds  admirably; 
when  it  serves  a  slovenly,  careless  style,  it  becomes  valueless  and 
insufferable;  therefore  it  acquired  a  bad  name  among  us,  particu- 
larly on  account  of  the  wretched  versification  and  language  of  cer- 
tain comedies  by  Goldoni  and  Chiari.3 

2  Goldoni  says  in  his  memoirs  that  "he  amused  himself  in  making  these 
verses  succeed  fifty  years  after  their  author's  death,  but  Martelli  died  in 
1727,  -whereas  Moliere  was  written  in  1751. 

3  Note  alle  nuove  poesie  di  Giosue  Carducci,  as  quoted  by  P.  G.  Mol- 
menti  in  Carlo  Goldoni. 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  433 

"Wretched"  is  perhaps  too  strong  a  term  to  de- 
scribe Goldoni's  Martellian  verse;  yet  it  would  be 
equally  wrong  to  use  a  word  of  superlative  approba- 
tion, mediocre  being  the  just  adjective  with  which 
to  qualify  it.  Luckily,  three-fourths  of  his  comedies 
are  in  prose.  Moreover,  though  he  wrote  occasion- 
ally in  verse  to  satisfy  the  taste  of  his  more  cultivated 
auditors,  he  apparently  realized  that  prose  is  the  nat- 
ural medium  of  comedy;  since  in  The  Comic  Thea- 
tre, he  thus  pricks  a  false  bubble  of  tradition: 

Comedy  should  be  entirely  probable,  and  for  the  characters  to 
talk  in  verse  is  contrary  to  probability.  You  will  say  that  comic 
verses  are  disguised  so  as  to  make  them  resemble  prose.  Then  why 
not  write  simply  in  prose? 

Although  he  held  this  sane  belief,  classic  tradition 
often  forced  him  to  the  use  of  verse,  particularly  in 
the  trio  of  ambitious  comedies — Moliere,  Terence, 
and  Tasso.  Indeed  a  modern  continental  author 
writing  comedies  upon  similar  subjects  would  pro- 
bably resort  to  verse,  so  thoroughly  rooted  is  the 
classical  tradition.  Alas,  in  only  too  many  instances 
verse  merely  stultifies  a  play  otherwise  worthy.  In 
the  case  of  GoldonPs  comedies  this  is  peculiarly  true, 
his  naturalistic  genius  strutting  awkwardly  in  poeti- 
cal attire.  In  Terence,  for  instance,  the  second  com- 
edy of  the  classical  trio,  there  is  scarcely  a  ray  of 
poetical  sunlight  to  illumine  the  laboured  verses  of 
its  five  prosaic  acts;  even  in  dramatic  construction 
it  is  inferior  to  both  Moliere  and  Tasso,  there  being 


434  GOLDONI 

less  unity  of  action,  less  truth  to  nature  than  in  either 
of  these  comedies. 

Though  the  idol  of  the  public,  the  Terence  of  Gol- 
doni's  play  is  still  the  slave  of  Lucanus,  a  Roman 
senator.  He  loves  Creusa,  a  Greek  slave  girl,  who 
returns  his  affection  ardently,  and  he  is  loved  by 
Livia,  the  adopted  daughter  of  his  master,  a  haughty 
Roman  maid  who  conceals  her  passion  because  of  the 
chains  Terence  wears,  yet  plots  to  circumvent  her 
Greek  rival.  Indeed,  there  is  considerable  plotting 
and  counter-plotting  on  the  part  not  only  of  jealous 
Livia,  but  of  a  slave  named  Damon,  as  well,  envious 
of  his  fellow-bondsman's  success.  Damon  is  aided 
by  Lisca,  a  parasite  who  seeks  to  balk  the  worthy  pur- 
pose Lucanus  has  of  manumitting  Terence  as  a  re- 
ward for  the  fine  comedies  with  which  he  has  adorned 
the  Roman  stage.  As  in  both  Moliere  and  Tasso, 
Goldoni  unburdened  his  artistic  heart  in  this  play, 
particularly  in  the  scene  in  which  parasitic  Lisca  tells 
jealous  Damon  that  if  he  will  roast  him  a  brace  of 
pheasants  he  will  teach  him  how  to  write  a  comedy 
that  will  undo  Terence  in  the  public's  favour. 
Plautus  is  to  be  the  subject,  and  the  parallel  to  the 
discredit  of  Terence  which  the  latter's  enemies  will 
draw  is  to  be  both  Damon's  vindication  and  his 
glory.  "That  is  all  very  well,"  Damon  replies, 
"and  the  pheasants  are  yours,  Lisca;  yet  should  I  be 
asked  who  Plautus  was,  I  know  not  whether  he  was  a 
man  or  some  strange  beast."  Lisca's  following  an- 
swer is  manifestly  the  expression  of  Goldoni's  feelings 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  435 

regarding  both  his  own  art  and  its  critics,  and  there- 
fore autobiographical: 

I'll  give  thee  light  enough  on  that.     Plautus 
Was  born  in  Umbria,  and  there  had  failed 
In  merchantry.     Miserably  he  pined 
For  months,  until  his  lot  became  so  hard 
That  he  was  forced  to  grind  a  mill.     The  wretch 
Conceived  his  comedies,  they  say,  in  hours 
Of  rest  and  tears;  when  they  had  reached  a  score, 
They  wrought  such  marvels,  that  good  fortune  smiled 
On  him.     So  pure  a  style  had  he,  that  even 
The  Muses,  would  they  speak,  must  utter  words 
Like  his.     All  wise  men  do  him  justice,  now; 
His  simple  themes  are  praised,  the  art,  besides, 
With  which  he  paints  men's  ways;  for,  knowing  well 
The  world,  his  insight  was  derived  from  it. 
His  life,  scant  subject  for  a  comedy 
Doth  yield;  yet  if  we  romance  't  will  succeed, 
'Twill  answer  if  our  parallel  doth  leave 
Critical  judgment  in  suspense;  then  will 
The  crowd  applaud.     But  three  or  four  suffice 
To  slur  this  slave  and  leave  the  public  shouting, 
"O  bravo,  Damon,  bravo!" 

To  bring  the  story  of  this  dull  play  to  an  end  it  is 
sufficient  to  say  that  the  illustrious  Terence  gains  his 
freedom,  and  by  an  expedient  not  unlike  the  tricks 
of  Plautus's  Phormion — Scapin's  prototype — he  gains 
as  well  the  hand  of  the  Greek  girl  whom  he  loves. 
When,  all  is  said,  "Terence,"  to  quote  Professor 
Ortolani,4  "would  not  be  worthy  of  remembrance 
had  it  not  inaugurated  at  Venice  a  series  of  Greco- 
Latin  comedies  brief  in  fortune,  yet  contemptible." 
During  this  period  of  false  art,  Socrates,  Democritus, 

4  Op.  cit. 


436  GOLDONI 


Diogenes,  yEsop,  and  Plautus  were  brought  to  painful 
resurrection  by  dramatic  dabblers,  among  whom 
Chiari  alone  is  remembered  because  Carlo  Gozzi 
coupled  his  name  with  Goldoni's. 

Tasso,  the  third  comedy  of  the  classical  trio,  was 
also  brought  to  light  during  this  neo-classical  orgy 
Terence  had  ushered  in;  yet  in  Tasso  there  is  a  bio- 
graphical interest  at  least,  it  being  primarily  a  po- 
lemic launched,  as  Goldoni  thus  says,  against  the 
pedants  who  had  taken  him  to  task  for  the  impurity 
of  his  Italian: 

I  was  a  Venetian;  moreover  I  had  the  ill  luck  of  having  im- 
bibed with  my  mother's  milk  the  habit  of  a  very  agreeable,  very 
seductive  patois,  which,  alas,  was  not  Tuscan.  I  learned  by  rule 
and  I  cultivated  by  reading,  the  language  of  good  Italian  authors, 
but  first  impressions  reappear  in  spite  of  one's  intention  to  avoid 
them.  I  had  taken  a  journey  to  Tuscany,  where  I  had  remained 
four  years  familiarizing  myself  with  the  language;  and  to  purge 
them  of  linguistical  defects,  my  plays  had  been  first  published  in 
Florence  under  the  eyes  and  the  censorship  of  the  learned  men  of 
that  country  ;  yet  all  my  precautions  had  not  sufficed  in  contenting 
the  rigorists.  I  had  always  lacked  something.  I  was  ever  re- 
proached with  the  original  sin  of  Venetianism. 

Tasso  had  been  persecuted  throughout  his  life  by 
the  academicians  of  La  Crusca.  His  Jerusalem  De- 
livered had  not  passed,  they  maintained,  through  the 
sieve  symbolizing  their  society.  From  Tasso's  life 
Goldoni  drew  the  sources  of  a  play  in  his  own  de- 
fence. "One  should  write  in  good  Italian,"  he 
declared  ;  "but  one  should  write  in  a  way  to  be  under- 
stood in  all  the  sections  of  Italy.  Tasso  was  wrong 
in  revising  his  poem  to  please  the  academicians  of 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  437 

La  Crusca:  his  Jerusalem  Delivered  is  read  by  every 
one;  no  one  reads  his  Jerusalem  Conquered" 

Thus  Goldoni's  comedy  became  a  thesis,  and  his 
Tasso  a  spectre  of  himself  fighting  his  enemies,  rather 
than  the  great  poet  whose  wrongs  at  the  hands  of 
Duke  Alfonso  of  Ferrara  presented  so  rare  an  op- 
portunity to  picture  truly  the  crafty,  cruel,  rose- 
flecked,  thorn-strewn  life  of  a  renaissance  court,  with 
its  temples  of  love  and  dungeons  of  misery,  its  pol- 
ished cortegiani  and  flattering  villains  with  poison 
vials  or  daggers  concealed  beneath  their  graceful 
cloaks.  Melancholy  Tasso  gave  him  the  opportunity 
of  creating  an  Italian  Hamlet — or  an  Alceste.  In  his 
desire  to  confound  his  enemies,  he  has  presented  only 
an  atrabilious  poet  in  small  clothes  and  a  periwig — 
a  Bernardino  Perfetti,  with  too  diminutive  a  head  for 
his  majestic  laurel  crown.  The  atmosphere  is  of  the 
eighteenth,  not  the  sixteenth  century,  the  Ferrara  of 
this  play  being  in  reality  Parma,  where  Goldoni  had 
basked  in  the  sunshine  of  a  ducal  pension.  Instead  of 
Maddalo,  a  villain  of  the  Renaissance  who  in  real  life 
plotted  the  trusting  Tasso's  downfall  with  friendship 
on  his  lips,  we  have  prying,  gossiping  Don  Ghe- 
rardo  flitting  through  this  comedy  with  a  quizzing- 
glass  and  a  snuff-box  and  minding  everybody's  busi- 
ness but  his  own — a  villain  whose  most  crafty 
machination  is  to  steal  the  manuscript  of  a  poem  in 
which  Tasso  had  sung  his  unrequited  love  for  Eleo- 
nora. 

There  are  three  Eleonoras  at  this  court  of  Ferrara 


438  GOLDONI 

• — or  rather  Parma:  Don  Gherardo's  wife,  the 
duke's  mistress,  and  a  waiting  maid,  and  it  is  on 
the  identity  of  the  Eleonora  of  Tasso's  passion  that 
the  intrigue  of  the  comedy  hinges.  Throughout  five 
acts,  Don  Gherardo  is  tripping  in  and  out  trying  to 
discover  if  the  Eleonora  of  the  poem  is  his  wife  or 
another,  while  each  of  the  three  namesakes  is  endeav- 
ouring to  make  it  apparent  that  she  is  the  poet's  in- 
amorata, for  the  distinction  of  having  it  said  that  her 
charms  have  been  sung  by  him. 

The  love  Tasso  dares  not  declare  is  for  the  duke's 
mistress,  and  when  he  is  not  repining,  he  is  complain- 
ing of  his  vapours  or  ranting  against  the  critics  who 
condemn  him.  Meanwhile  a  character  called  the 
Cavalier  del  Fiocco  (Knight  of  the  Tuft)  taunts  him 
with  the  impurity  of  his  Italian  and  makes  him  long 
to  flee  where  critics  carp  not,  this  fellow  being  a  satire 
upon  the  Granelleschi,  while  the  pithy  answers  of 
Signor  Tomio,  a  Venetian  Philistine,  are  intended  to 
confound  them.  Tomio  has  come  to  Ferrara  to  bid 
Tasso  seek  an  asylum  in  Venice;  there  is  an  amusing 
Neapolitan,  too,  who  invites  him  to  Naples;  and  a 
Roman  proffering  a  laurel  crown,  which  Tasso,  after 
a  night  in  a  madhouse  (instead  of  the  seven  years 
of  reality)  accepts,  while  presaging  his  own  death. 

In  verses  without  imagery  and  with  an  apocryphal 
story,  this  is  the  sort  of  Tasso  Goldoni  has  portrayed; 
yet  it  must  be  admitted  that  this  portrayal  represents 
a  phase  of  the  true  Tasso,  the  dramatist  having  dwelt 
faithfully  upon  the  neurasthenic  symptoms  that  gave 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  439 

to  the  poet's  melancholy  nature  the  appearance  of 
madness  and  left  him,  victim  of  his  own  distrust,  a 
prisoner  in  a  bedlam  throughout  seven  distressing 
years.  It  is  not  with  the  psychology  of  Goldoni's 
Tasso  that  the  quarrel  lies,  nor  with  the  historical  lib- 
erties taken  in  condensing  into  a  single  day  the  events 
of  a  lifetime,  since  Shakespeare  and  Calderon  dis- 
torted history  quite  as  casually.  The  quarrel  is  rather 
with  the  atmosphere  in  which  the  hypochondriacal 
poet  is  placed,  the  characters  surrounding  him,  the 
flippancy  with  which  a  subject  fraught  with  majesty 
is  handled.  Goldoni  has  dressed  his  hero  in  small- 
clothes. About  him,  in  a  stuffy  apartment,  flit  sel- 
fish ducal  mistresses,  vain  wives,  coquettish  soubrettes, 
and  carping  pedants,  loading  the  atmosphere  with 
their  scents  and  snuffs.  The  air  should  have  been 
the  rose-perfumed  air  of  a  moonlit  balcony,  tempered 
by  the  music  of  a  lute  in  a  true  lover's  hand.  No 
prying  gossip  or  cackling  poetaster  should  have  been 
the  villain,  but  a  crafty  flatterer  hiding  his  venom 
beneath  the  folds  of  his  cloak;  while  Tasso  himself 
should  have  been  no  mere  neurasthenic,  but  rather  a 
poet  haunted  by  the  bewildering  fancies  of  a  weary 
mind,  a  genius  of  "moping  melancholy  and  moon- 
struck madness." 

Moreover,  instead  of  Princess  Eleonora  D'Este, 
with  her  noble  qualities  of  mind,  her  spiritual  beauty, 
we  have  a  vain  and  powdered  marquise  with  another 
cognomen  lest  her  princely  rank  and  name  offend  a 
family  still  regnant.  This  sop  to  the  stage  exigencies 


440  GOLDONI 

of  the  day  may  be  pardoned,  but  not  Goldoni's  failure 
to  create  the  atmosphere  of  the  Renaissance  and  a 
Tasso  worthy  to  breathe  it.  Yet  the  very  limitations  of 
this  play  betray  his  peculiar  genius.  He  could  not 
rise  to  the  height  his  subject  demanded,  nor  could  he 
fail  in  portraying  the  men  and  women  of  his  time. 
His  Tasso  is  a  phantom  of  his  own  vapours,  his 
Eleonora  the  vain  mistress  of  a  petty  duke,  his  villain 
a  prying  courtier,  his  pedant  a  caricature  of  Carlo 
Gozzi  to  confound  him — all  Italians  of  his  day,  just 
as  the  classic  or  historical  heroes  of  Calderon  were 
courtly  Castilians  true  to  the  audience  before  which 
they  appeared. 

Yet  Goethe  in  his  Tasso  committed  the  same  grave 
error  of  depicting  in  the  struggles  of  the  Italian  poet 
his  own  sufferings  from  princely  patronage.  To 
Eckermann  he  declared  that  "the  court,  the  situation, 
the  love  passages  were  at  Weimar  as  at  Ferrara." 
Goethe's  scenery,  a  garden  adorned  with  the  busts  of 
epic  poets,  is  more  suggestive  of  the  Renaissance  than 
Goldoni's;  he  follows  more  closely,  too,  the  events 
of  the  poet's  life,  and  gives  to  his  characters  their 
real  names ;  yet  his  Tasso  is  a  play  of  still  life  so  far 
as  action  is  concerned.  Though  superior  to  Goldoni  as 
a  poet,  in  stage-craft  Goethe  shows  inferiority;  while 
in  spite  of  Madame  de  StaeTs  declaration  that  "in 
Tasso  he  is  the  Racine  of  Germany,"  he  depicts  with 
scarcely  more  sublimity  than  our  Venetian  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  half-mad  poet  during  the  distressing  years 
he  passed  at  Ferrara. 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  441 

Still  more  deserving  of  oblivion  than  this  trio  of 
plays  about  classical  poets  are  the  exotic  comedies 
in  verse  in  which  Goldoni  plunged  blindly  into  bar- 
baric lands  he  knew  only  from  the  pages  of  the  Italian 
translation  of  Thomas  Salmon's  Modern  History; 
or,  Present  State  of  All  Nations;  a  work  more  legen- 
dary than  accurate,  in  which  this  sailor-author  re- 
counts the  stories  told  him  by  the  marines.  Judging 
by  the  fantastic  Persia,  Morocco,  Peru,  and  Guiana 
Goldoni  presents  in  The  Persian  Bride  (La  Sposa 
perslana)  and  its  two  sequels  as  well  as  in  The  Little 
Dalmatian  (La  Dalmatlna),  The  Peruvian  Girl  (La 
Peruvlana) ,  and  The  Fair  Savage  (La  Bella  selvag- 
gia),  as  an  authority  Salmon  was  akin  to  Gulliver. 

Since  The  Fair  Savage  was  inspired  by  TAbbe 
Prevost,5  and  The  Peruvian  Girl  by  Madame  de 
Graffigny,6  it  is  perhaps  unfair  to  hold  the  inexact 
Salmon  entirely  responsible  for  the  discovery  of  the 
apocryphal  lands  into  which  Goldoni  blindly  led  his 
Venetian  admirers,  particularly  as  Zelia,  his  Peru- 
vian, finds  her  way  to  a  village  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Paris. 

Yet,  whatever  may  be  the  truth  regarding  the  ori- 
gin of  the  various  barbaric  ladies  of  Goldoni's  im- 
agination, little  need  be  said  about  them  beyond  the 
fact  that  they  are  as  romantic  as  they  are  unreal. 
They  satisfied  a  temporary  dramatic  craze  for  ad- 
venturous plots  and  fantastic  scenery,  and  the  curtain 
may  be  quickly  drawn  upon  all  of  them  except  The 

5  Histoire  generate  des  voyages.         6  Lettres  d'une  Peruvienne. 


442  GOLDONI 

Persian  Bride.  Here  Goldoni  appeals  to  his  audi- 
tors with  oriental  magnificence  and  resorts  to  the 
melodramatic  claptrap  of  subterranean  passages,  dag- 
gers, and  sudden  escapes;  yet  this  play  presents  an 
interesting  contrast  between  European  and  oriental 
morals,  best  elucidated  by  its  author's  following 
words : 

The  subject  of  The  Persian  Bride  is  not  heroic:  a  rich  financier 
of  Ispahan,  of  the  name  of  Machmout,  engages  and  forces  Thamas, 
his  son,  to  marry  against  his  will  Fatima,  the  daughter  of  Osman, 
an  officer  of  rank  in  the  Sefavean  army.  This  is  what  we  see 
every  day  in  our  pieces;  a  young  lady  betrothed  to  a  young  man 
whose  heart  is  already  pre-occupied.  .  .  .  But  what  removed  this 
Asiatic  still  farther  from  a  level  with  our  ordinary  comedies  was, 
that  in  the  house  of  Machmout,  there  was  a  seraglio  for  himself 
and  another  for  his  son;  an  arrangement  very  different  from  our 
European  custom,  where  the  father  and  son  may  have  more  mis- 
tresses than  they  have  in  Persia,  but  no  seraglio. 

Thamas  had  in  his  a  Circassian  slave  named  Hircana,  to  whom 
he  was  tenderly  attached,  and  who,  notwithstanding  her  servitude, 
proudly  refused  to  allow  her  lover  and  master  to  divide  his  favour 
with  other  women,  not  even  with  the  one  his  father  destined  for 
his  spouse. 

This  is  also  something  new  for  our  climate;  for  in  France,  as 
well  as  in  Italy,  a  mistress  would  make  no  opposition  to  her 
friend's  forming  a  respectable  and  proper  connection,  provided  he 
continued  to  see  her,  or  secured  her  an  income  by  way  of  consola- 
tion in  her  affliction. 

This  contrast  between  the  morals  of  Europe  and 
the  East  is  cleverly  expressed  in  the  play  itself,  when 
Thamas,  the  hero,  thus  voices  his  envy  of  the  liberties 
enjoyed  by  Europeans : 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  443 

Since  no  Mohammedan  may  look  upon 

A  woman  not  his  wife,  we  do  not  share 

The  joys  that  are  to  Europeans  given. 

Italians,  Spaniards,  Englishmen,  and  Greeks, 

Frenchmen,  and  Germans,  too,  may  not,  forsooth, 

Like  us  have  wives  a  score;  yet  in  the  street, 

Uncovered  by  the  hundred,  they  may  gaze 

At  them  and  amorous  looks,  at  least,  bestow 

On  them  at  will.     Yet  Europe  numbers  still 

Amongst  her  peoples  not  a  few  who  envy 

A  sad  hareem — as  if  the  slavery 

That  burdens  them  were  not  increased  for  us. 

When  The  Persian  Bride  was  produced  the  public 
liked  Hircana,  the  Circassian  slave,  better  than  Fa- 
tima,  the  protagonist,  a  popularity  that  led  to  the 
writing  of  Hircana  at  Julfa  (Ircana  in  Julfa)  and 
Hircana  at  Ispahan  (Ircana  in  Ispaan),  two  plays 
in  which  her  romantic  adventures  are  continued. 
Goldoni  thought  so  highly  of  this  Persian  trilogy 
that  he  devotes  two  chapters  of  his  memoirs  to  praise 
of  it;  yet  silence  is  to-day  the  kindest  treatment  for 
these  oriental  plays,  foreign  both  to  nature  and  to 
GoldonPs  genius. 

An  exotic  comedy  in  verse  of  quite  a  different  na- 
ture is  The  English  Philosopher  (II  Filosofo  inglese) 
a  play  inspired  by  the  ladies  of  Venice,  who,  having 
made  a  fad  of  reading  Addison's  Spectator  in  a  trans- 
lation then  current,  believed  themselves  to  be  philoso- 
phers, or  rather  femmes  savantes  such  as  Moliere 
satirized.  Although  there  is  a  slight  similarity  in 
theme  between  The  English  Philosopher  and  Mo- 


444  GOLDONI 

Here's  master-piece,  in  plot  there  is  none  whatever, 
Goldoni's  comedy — the  scene  of  which  is  laid  in  Lon- 
don, where  he  had  never  set  foot — being  concerned 
with  the  secret  love  of  a  rich  English  blue-stocking 
for  a  priggish  philosopher  whose  rival  is  a  scion  of 
English  nobility.  The  story  of  this  play  is  without 
interest  and  its  principal  characters  are  convention- 
ally dull;  yet  some  of  the  minor  character-bits  are 
drawn  in  Goldoni's  best  vein.  Particularly  is  this 
true  of  Panich,  the  cobbler,  whose  communistic  views 
are  not  unworthy  our  modern  disciples  of  discontent. 
Indeed,  the  satire  in  the  following  scene  is  too  de- 
lightful to  be  passed  by,  even  though  the  play  in 
which  it  occurs  inadequately  represents  its  author's 
talent.  Here  a  pot-boy,  having  seized  a  pair  of 
Panich  the  cobbler's  shoes  as  security  for  a  score  he 
has  refused  to  pay,  thus  appeals  to  the  English  phi- 
losopher who  is  passing  at  the  time : 

THE  POT-BOY   (to  the  Philosopher} 
His  score  he  will  not  pay.     Justice,  good  sir! 

THE  COBBLER   (to  the  Philosopher} 
'Tis  not  through  malice,  sir,  I  trow.     You  pay 
Too  dear  refreshment  at  this  inn.     A  draught 
Of  boiling  water — scarce  a  farthing's  worth — 
With  sugar,  lemon,  and  some  rum.     Besides 
No  cash  have  I.     Ne'er  do  I  carry  it. 

THE    PHILOSOPHER 

So,  master,  so!     Worthy  Philosopher, 
At  inns  you  drink  without  the  cash  to  pay? 

THE    COBBLER 

And  you,  good  sir,  who  in  philosophy 

Are  somewhat  learned,  such  an  exorbitance 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  445 

Do  you  approve?     Equal  all  men  are  born; 

Ours  are  the  goods  this  world  contains.     This  thing 

Is  mine,  we  should  not  say ;  nor  that  is  yours. 

If  man  of  fellow-man  has  need,  and  by 

Him  is  assuaged,  to  proffer  payment  is 

A  shame,  I  trow.     Though  penniless,  I've  drunk 

With  him.     Whene'er  his  shoes  are  worn,  I'll  fit 

Him  with  a  pair ;  then  are  we  quits  indeed. 

THE  POT-BOY  (to  the  Cobbler) 
Plague  take  thy  shoes !     A  shilling  is  my  due. 
Base  cobbler,  I  will  pay  thee  out! 

THE   COBBLER 

Pay  me  ? 

THE  PHILOSOPHER  (to  the  Cobbler) 
Enough's  been  said.     He's  right  and  Right's 
A  mistress  to  adore. 

(To  the  Pot-boy.)      'Twixt  men  of  worth 
All  chattels  are  exchanged,  not  paid.     A  pair 
Of  shoes  I  need.     Friend  Panich  here  will  give 
Me  them  for  nothing  soon. 

THE    COBBLER 

Slowly,  my  friend. 

If  I  these  shoes  should  give  what  wilt  thou 
Give  me  in  exchange? 

THE    PHILOSOPHER 

Nothing:  I  possess 
No  trade. 

THE    COBBLER 

But  if  you  have  no  trade,  I  have; 
And  for  an  idle  hand  I'll  not  exchange 
Good  shoes. 

THE    PHILOSOPHER 

And  on  a  like  account,  with  you, 
A  fortune  for  a  shilling's  worth,  this  lad 
Would  not  exchange.     You  know  not  what  you  say. 


446  GOLDONI 

THE   COBBLER 

I'd  have  my  shoes. 

THE    POT-BOY 

Then  pay. 

THE    COBBLER 

Base  tyranny! 

Wouldst  make  a  fellow  pay  who  has  no  cash 
Or,  'gainst  all  nature,  let  him  die  of  thirst! 

THE   PHILOSOPHER 

'Tis  true  that  to  assuage  your  thirst  is  right. 
Yet,  if  you  cannot  pay,  cold  water  you 
Should  drink. 

THE    COBBLER 

You  know  not  what  you  say.     My  shoes 
I'd  have  at  once,  dost  understand,  my  shoes?  (to  the  Pot-boy) 

THE  PHILOSOPHER  (to  the  Pot-boy) 
Here  is  the  shilling ;  take  it ;  give  the  shoes. 

THE  POT-BOY  (to  the  Cobbler) 
Here  are  thy  shoes.     Thy  whistle  ne'er  again 
I'll  wet;  a  fountain  seek,  or  else  a  well. 

(Exit) 

THE  COBBLER  (to  the  Philosopher) 
I  thank  thee  not;  if  thou  hast  paid  for  me 
'Tis  but  a  neighbour's  duty  to  assist  his  kind. 
Unto  this  act  of  nature  wast  thou  forced : 
To  thee  I  hold  myself  no  way  obliged. 

Another  exotic  comedy  in  verse  in  which  Goldoni 
leads  us  to  a  civilized  land  instead  of  to  Barbary  is 
The  Dutch  Doctor  (II  Medico  olandese)  a  play 
made  interesting  by  its  subjectivity,  the  rational  treat- 
ment of  that  intangible  malady  neurasthenia — or,  as 
it  was  then  called,  the  vapours — having  been  its  in- 
spiration. Though  optimistic  by  nature  and  genial 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  447 

in  temperament,  Goldoni,  like  most  writers,  was 
nevertheless  a  chronic  sufferer  from  nerves.  At  the 
close  of  the  strenuous  theatrical  year  when  he  wrote 
sixteen  plays,  he  "paid  the  price  of  his  folly,"  he  tells 
us,  "by  falling  ill."  "Subject  as  I  was,"  he  adds,  "to 
the  black  vapours  that  attack  at  the  same  time  both 
body  and  mind,  I  felt  them  revive  within  me  more 
violently  then  ever."  In  recalling  the  needed  rest 
he  took  at  Genoa  during  the  following  summer  he 
exclaims :  "Ah,  but  it  is  sweet,  above  all  when  one 
has  worked  much,  to  pass  a  few  days  without  any- 
thing to  do!"  A  few  years  later,  after  the  wife  of 
his  worthless  brother  had  died,  and  the  peace  of  his 
happy  Venetian  home  was  destroyed  by  the  advent 
of  that  military  adventurer  and  his  two  children, 
Goldoni's  nerves  were  unstrung,  as  many  another 
man's  have  been,  by  a  deluge  of  relations.  His  own 
words  shall  describe  his  neurasthenia  on  this  occa- 
sion: 

I  was  still  suffering  from  the  intense  fatigue  which  I  had  under- 
gone for  the  theatre  of  Sant'  Angelo;  and  the  verses  to  which  I 
had  unfortunately  accustomed  the  public  cost  me  infinitely  more 
trouble  than  prose.  My  spleen  began  to  attack  me  with  more 
than  usual  violence.  The  new  family,  which  I  maintained  in  my 
house,  rendered  my  health  more  than  ever  necessary  to  me,  and 
the  dread  of  losing  it  augmented  my  complaint.  My  attacks 
were  as  much  of  a  physical  as  of  a  moral  nature.  Sometimes  my 
imagination  was  heated  by  the  effervescence  of  the  bodily  fluids, 
and  sometimes  the  animal  economy  was  deranged  by  apprehen- 
sion. Our  mind  is  so  intimately  connected  with  our  body,  that 
if  it  were  not  for  reason,  which  belongs  to  the  immortal  soul,  we 
should  be  mere  machines. 


448  GOLDONI 

A  short  time  after  this  attack  of  neurasthenia,  Gol- 
doni  was  attending  a  performance  at  Milan,  when 
an  actor  named  Angelini  who,  like  himself,  was  sub- 
ject to  "the  vapours,"  dropped  dead  upon  the  stage. 
The  shock  to  his  nerves  was  so  great  that  crying 
aloud,  "Angelini,  my  companion  in  spleen,  is  dead," 
he  ran  home  in  terror  and  there  was  seized  with  a 
"real  illness,"  his  mind  being  as  he  says,  "more  diffi- 
cult to  cure  than  his  body."  The  suggestive  treat- 
ment administered  on  this  occasion  is  remarkable  in 
that  day  of  empiricism:  "Considering  your  dis- 
ease," his  doctor  told  him,  "in  the  light  of  a  child 
who  comes  forward  to  attack  you  with  a  drawn 
sword — if  you  be  on  your  guard,  he  cannot  hurt  you, 
but  if  you  lay  open  your  breast  to  him,  the  child  will 
kill  you."  "This  apologue  restored  me  to  health," 
Goldoni  says,  "and  I  have  never  forgotten  it."  Be- 
ing useful  "in  every  stage  of  life,"  it  proved  service- 
able in  the  composition  of  The  Dutch  Doctor,  a  com- 
edy inspired  while  he  was  sojourning  at  Colorno  with 
the  court  of  Parma,  during  the  summer  of  1756. 
A  few  months  later  he  wrote  for  his  ducal  patron  the 
libretti  of  several  musical  pieces  for  one  of  which,7 
Egidio  Domualdo  Duni,  a  musician  of  Neapolitan 
birth,  who  shares  with  Philador,  Monsigny,  and  Gre- 
try  the  distinction  of  having  created  opera  comique, 
composed  the  music.  A  chronic  sufferer  from  nerves, 
Duni  had  once  been  treated  effectively  at  Leyden  by 
the  famous  Herman  Boerhaave,  perhaps  the  great- 

7  La  Buona  figliuola,  the  plot  of  which  was  taken  from  Pamela. 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  449 

est  physician  of  the  day.  With  nerves  as  their  bond 
of  sympathy,  Goldoni  and  Duni  became  intimate 
during  the  summer  they  passed  at  Colorno.  Taking 
frequent  walks  together,  their  conversation  turned 
generally  on  their  real  or  imaginary  evils,  and  during 
one  of  these  walks  The  Dutch  Doctor  was  inspired 
in  the  manner  Goldoni  here  relates : 

M.  Duni  told  me  one  day  that  he  had  been  at  Leyden  in  Hol- 
land, for  the  purpose  of  consulting  the  celebrated  Boerhaave  on 
the  symptoms  of  his  malady,  .  .  .  the  only  prescription  he  gave 
the  hypochondriacal  musician  being  to  ride,  amuse  himself,  live 
in  his  ordinary  manner,  and  avoid  all  kinds  of  medicines.  .  .  . 
Duni,  who  had  seen  him  for  several  months,  gave  me  a  detailed 
description  of  his  manners  and  way  of  living,  and  he  mentioned 
Miss  Boerhaave,  too,  who  was  young,  rich,  beautiful,  and  still 
unmarried.  ...  I  listened  attentively  to  him,  and  formed  in  my 
head  the  seeds  of  a  comedy  which  soon  shot  upwards,  with  the 
assistance  of  a  little  reflection  and  moral  philosophy.  I  concealed 
the  name  of  Boerhaave 8  in  my  piece  under  that  of  Bainer,  a 
Dutch  physician  and  philosopher,  and  introduced  a  Pole  afflicted 
with  the  same  disease  as  that  of  Duni.  Bainer  treated  him  in 
the  same  manner;  but  at  the  end  of  the  play  the  Pole  married  the 
daughter  of  the  physician. 

Although  the  comedy  thus  inspired,  like  A  Curious 
Mishap,  the  scene  of  which  is  also  laid  in  Holland, 
tells  a  trite  story  of  the  winning  of  a  rich  Dutchman's 
daughter  by  a  young  foreigner,  Dr.  Bainer,  its  pro- 
tagonist becomes  truly  interesting  because  of  the  fol- 
lowing advice  he  gives  his  hypochondriacal  patient, 
so  enlightened  for  that  day  of  purges  and  leeches  that 
it  is  indeed  remarkable : 

8  Boerhaave  died  in  1738,  eighteen  years  before  Goldoni's  musical  play 
was  written. 


450  GOLDONI 

Listen  I  pray:     By  the  neighbouring  stream 
Within  the  suburbs,  choose  a  shady  nook; 
In  gardens  fair  seek  joyful  fellowship, 
And  with  good  friends  dine  at  the  common  board; 
Game  for  amusement,  not  till  ruin  comes; 
For  pleasure,  try  a  good  horse,  now  and  then; 
Likewise  an  honest  love  which  you  will  find 
I  trow;  one  nail,  the  poets  say,  drives  out 
Another  from  the  plank.     Your  remedy 
Behold!     If  you  have  faith  in  my  advice 
No  other  recompense  shall  I  demand.9 

To  find  a  more  truthful  atmosphere  in  GoldonPs 
versified  comedies  of  the  aristocratic  and  bourgeois 
life  of  Venice,  than  in  those  depicting  an  apocryphal 
orient,  or  London  and  The  Hague  viewed  through 
the  pages  of  translated  books  and  the  stories  told  by 
travellers,  is  a  reasonable  expectation.  Although 
partially  realized,  the  reader  of  these  comedies  is  still 
doomed  to  considerable  disappointment,  verse  being 
an  unnatural  medium  for  the  small  talk  of  society,  and 
Goldoni  ill  at  ease  in  its  use.  Indeed  the  best  that 
may  be  said  for  these  comedies  is  that  they  are  better 
than  the  exotic  comedies  in  verse,  not  because  they 
fulfil  more  exactly  the  requirements  of  the  poetic 
drama,  but  because  their  atmosphere  and  character- 
ization are  truer  to  life.  A  rapid  review  of  the 
plays  in  this  category  will  suffice,  however,  to 
acquaint  the  reader  with  their  characteristics. 

Though  it  ends  happily,  The  Intrepid  Woman  (La 

9  Goldoni  presents  a  similar  exposition  of  the  value  of  mental  treat- 
ment in  Act  II,  scene  7,  of  //  Ritorno  dalla  villeggiatura. 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  451 

Donna  forte),  resembles  Shakespeare's  Othello,  Don 
Fernando  being  an  lago  who  poisons  the  heart  of  the 
Marchese  di  Monte  Rosso  against  his  virtuous  wife 
because  she  has  spurned  his  own  amorous  attentions. 
The  Harassed  Man  of  Wealth  (II  Ricco  insidlato) 
tells  the  story  of  an  heir  to  an  uncle's  fortune,  who, 
besieged  by  the  blandishments  of  sycophants,  resolves 
to  unmask  them  by  publishing  a  false  will  depriving 
him  of  his  inheritance;  though  his  fair-weather 
friends  desert  him,  the  heroine  remains  constant  and  is 
rewarded  by  his  hand  and  fortune.  The  plot  of  The 
Witty  Widow  (La  Vedova  spiritosa)  is  taken  from 
a  story  by  Marmontel;  but  like  The  Upper  Servant 
(La  Donna  di  governo)  10  it  is  not  distinguished  by 
elements  either  striking  or  praiseworthy.  The  Spirit 
of  Contradiction  (Lo  Spirito  di  contraddizione)  is 
another  comedy  in  verse  that  may  be  passed  by  in 
silence.11  The  Artful  Bride-Elect  (La  Sposa  sa- 
gace),  however,  sheds  a  side-light  upon  cicisbeism, 
for  here  a  young  officer  is  both  a  girl's  betrothed  and 
her  step-mother's  cavalier  servente.  The  Lone 
Woman  (La  Donna  sola)  contains  but  a  single  fe- 
male part, — that  of  a  clever  widow,  who,  instead  of 
marrying  one  of  her  numerous  suitors,  converts  them 
all  into  loyal  citizens  of  a  Platonic  republic  ruled 
by  her  charms,  she  being  the  opposite  of  the  pro- 

10  Goldoni  translates  the  title  of  this  comedy  as  La  Gouvernante,  used 
not  in  the  sense  of  governess,  but  of  a  housekeeper  or  principal  servant. 

11  Although   Charles  Riviere  Dufresny  had  previously  written  a  one- 
act   comedy    entitled    L'Esprit    de   contradiction,    Goldoni    denies    having 
seen  it  before  writing  his  play  of  the  same  name. 


452  GOLDONI 

tagonist  of  The  Capricious  Woman  (La  Donna  stra- 
vagante),  a  heroine  so  perverse  that  when  she  ap- 
peared on  the  stage,  Goldoni  was  forced  by  his  femi- 
nine auditors  to  announce  that  she  was  a  character  of 
pure  invention  and  not  taken  from  life.  A  wilful, 
jealous  creature,  who  persecutes  her  sister  and  leads  a 
long  suffering  lover  a  merry  dance,  this  wayward 
lady,  Donna  Livia  by  name,  seemed  to  La  Bresciani, 
the  capricious  actress  who  played  the  part,  so  true  a 
portrait  of  herself  that  she  did  her  best  to  ruin  the  suc- 
cess of  the  play.  To  enliven  the  plot  of  The  Father 
through  Love  (II  Padre  per  amore)  which  he  took 
from  Madame  de  Graffigny's  Cenie,  Goldoni  intro- 
duced a  pair  of  monstrous  noses,12  yet  even  these  fail 
to  make  it  a  notable  play.  The  Lover  of  Himself 
(L'Amante  di  se  medesimo)  gave  him,  in  egotism,  a 
subject  for  a  profound  character  study  such  as  Mo- 
liere  presents  in  Le  Misanthrope]  yet  he  was  too 
genial  by  nature  to  handle  it  forcibly,  therefore  this 
play  occupies  an  unimportant  place  even  among  his 
comedies  in  verse.  The  Dancing  School  (La  Scuola 
di  hallo)  should  have  afforded  him  a  more  congenial 
topic,  but  this  piece  is  not  even  mentioned  by  Goldoni 
in  his  memoirs.  The  Ward  (La  Pupilla]  13  is  a 

12  Had   the   lawyers  who   defended   M.   Edmond   Rostand   against  the 
charge  of  plagiarism  brought  a  few  years  since  been  aware  of  the  ex- 
istence of   this   play   and   also   of    Calderon's  L'Alcalde   de  Zalamea,   in 
which  one   character   makes   love  on   behalf   of   another   beneath    a   bal- 
cony,  a    United    States   Court  might  have  been   spared   the   ignominy  of 
a  decision  that  made  the  American  judiciary  the  laughing-stock  of  the 
civilized  world. 

13  This   comedy   is   different   in   plot   and   treatment  from   the   musical 
interlude  of  the  same  name  written  in  1734. 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  453 

comedy  written  in  versi  sdruccioli,  a  measure  with  the 
accent  of  each  verse  on  the  antepenultimate  syllable. 
Interesting  solely  as  an  attempt  on  Goldoni's  part  to 
imitate  Ariosto,  it  is,  as  Charles  Rabany  says,  "an 
extra  task  Goldoni  imposed  upon  himself  which  it  is 
useless  to  impose  upon  the  reader  as  well."  14 

Three  society  comedies  in  verse  15  of  slightly  dif- 
ferent nature  from  the  foregoing  are  those  penned 
for  performance  in  the  private  theatre  of  his  friend 
and  patron  the  Marquis  Albergati-Capacelli.  Be- 
ing intended  for  amateur  production  they  are  shorter 
than  those  written  for  the  professional  boards,  have 
fewer  characters,  and  are  less  noteworthy  too,  even 
though  the  leading  role  in  The  Witty  Cavalier  (II 
Cavalier  di  spirito],  the  most  interesting  of  the  three, 
portrays,  as  its  author  tells  us,  the  qualities  of  his 
witty  and  genial  young  host,  who  himself  played  the 
part. 

Yet,  truly  as  these  society  and  bourgeois  comedies  in 
verse  paint  the  Venetian  manners  of  their  author's 
day,  they  are  wholly  inferior  to  his  best  prose  come- 
dies. Indeed,  only  occasionally  is  their  awkward 
verse  illumined  by  a  graceful  side-light,  such  as  the 
following  lines  from  one  of  the  dullest  of  them  16 
shed  upon  Venetian  manners.  Here  a  lady  versed 
in  gallantry  instructs  an  unruly  gentleman  in  the  laws 
governing  cicisbeism,  in  a  spirit  truly  of  the  eight- 
eenth century: 

14  Carlo  Goldoni;  Le  Theatre  et  la  vie  en  Italie  au  XVIIle  siecle. 

15  II  Cavalier  di  spirito,  La  Donna  bizzarra,  and  L'Apatista. 
10 //  Cavalier  giocondo. 


454  GOLDONI 

Go,  straightway  learn  how  to  behave  with  ladies! 

He  who  enlists  in  gallantry  should  do 

His  duty  at  all  costs;  though  suffering,  he 

Should  prove  his  worthiness  to  serve;  rebuke 

And  rudeness  both  accept  in  all  good  part; 

Pay  dearly  for  his  pleasantries  and  wiles; 

Shun  all  occasion  to  displease  and  all 

That  might  displease  learn  to  foresee;  his  friends    ' 

Forsake  and  in  the  fair  one's  company 

Immure  himself;  and  whether  she  be  sad 

Or  gay,  unto  her  mood  he  must  conform; 

Nor  should  he  vaunt  the  thing  that  pleases  him, 

But  by  her  pleasure  regulate  his  taste. 

Even  as  my  lady  bids  he  should  respond; 

By  night  watch  over  her,  and  sigh  by  day; 

Endure  a  rival — ay,  turn  pale  or  blush 

With  jealousy,  yet  never  have  the  boldness 

To  tell  the  things  he  may  have  seen,  in  hope 

Thus  to  regain  the  trifle  he  has  lost. 

His  lady's  hand  ofttimes  to  strangers  he 

Must  yield,  yet  never  babble  of  revenge, 

Nor  take  on  airs.     When  she  speaks  he  should  answer, 

And  when  she's  silent,  hold  his  tongue ;  he  should 

Perceive  when  speech,  when  silence,  pleases  her; 

Impertinence  or  insult  patiently 

Endure,  even  at  the  risk  of  being  thought 

A  simpleton.     Let  him  who  knows  not  how, 

Refrain — thus  must  he  do  who  would  succeed. 

The  most  noteworthy  of  Goldoni's  society  comedies 
in  verse  is  The  Ball  (II  Festino),  a  play  conceived 
and  hurried  to  completion  after  the  failure  of  The 
Whimsical  Old  Man  had  made  the  loungers  in  the 
Ridotto  exclaim,  "Goldoni  is  finished,  Goldoni  has 
emptied  his  bag."  Indeed  this  five-act  play  in  verse, 
written  and  produced  within  fifteen  days  and  given 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  455 

to  the  copyist  act  by  act,  as  a  tour  de  force,  is  made 
still  more  remarkable  by  the  fact  that  it  presents  a 
spirited  picture  of  fashionable  Venetian  life,  and  is 
by  no  means  a  bad  play.  It  drags,  to  be  sure,  par- 
ticularly in  the  third  and  fourth  acts,  where  its  action 
should  quicken;  yet  its  characterization  is  peculiarly 
true,  Doralice,  the  cicisbea,  for  whose  capricious 
smiles  the  Count  of  Belpoggio  neglects  a  loving  wife 
and  squanders  a  fortune,  being  as  exacting  a  mon- 
daine  as  ever  flounced  a  train,  while  her  fashionable 
friends  may  still  be  met  in  the  palaces  of  Venice  or 
wherever  worldlings  congregate.  Its  title  is  derived 
from  the  ball  the  Count  of  Belpoggio  gives  in  honour 
of  Doralice,  his  flame;  yet  its  interest  lies  less  in  its 
story  than  in  its  truthful  satire  upon  fashionable  life. 
It  has  a  biographical  interest  also,  as  Goldoni  thus  re- 
lates : 

I  contrived  to  have  in  a  salon  adjoining  the  ball-room  an  as- 
sembly of  weary  dancers.  I  turned  the  conversation  to  The 
Whimsical  Old  Man.  I  repeated  all  the  ridiculous  things  which 
I  had  heard  in  the  Ridotto,  keeping  up  a  dispute  for  and  against 
the  piece  and  the  author,  and  my  defence  met  with  the  approbation 
and  applause  of  the  public.  Thus  I  proved  that  my  bag  was  not 
empty  and  that  my  portfolio  was  not  exhausted. 

In  this  scene  in  the  room  adjoining  the  ball-room, 
as  well  as  in  two  others,17  Goldoni  criticizes  himself 
after  the  method  of  Moliere,18  one  character  being 
made  to  attack  and  another  to  defend  his  work.  He 

17  Act  I,  Scene  5,  and  Act  II,  Scene  13. 

18  La  Critique  de  I'ecole  des  femmes. 


456  GOLDONI 

hoped,  thereby,  to  confound  his  critics ;  yet  the  best 
refutation  of  the  slurs  that  had  been  cast  upon  him 
was  the  play  itself.  A  man  who  could  in  fifteen  days 
pen  so  true  a  comedy, — even  had  prose  instead  of 
verse  been  the  medium, — was  in  nowise  "finished," 
nor  was  his  bag  of  dramatic  tricks  empty.  Indeed, 
among  his  prose  comedies  there  is  perhaps  no  more 
ruthless  picture  of  the  vices  of  the  idle  rich  of  Venice 
than  The  Ball  presents,  the  Count  of  Belpoggio,  both 
amorous  dallier  and  spendthrift,  being  the  type  of 
luxurious  patrician  who  was  leading  proud  Venice 
to  her  ruin.  In  the  words  of  the  play: 

When  table  guests  and  dancers  have  withdrawn, 
Vile  creditors  his  salon  crowd  at  dawn. 
By  night  he  blithely  toes  the  glistening  floor, 
By  day  he  locks  in  shame  his  chamber  door. 

Naturalistic  as  is  the  picture  Goldoni  draws  of  so- 
ciety in  The  Ball,  like  his  other  rhymed  plays  in  Tus- 
can it  shows  conclusively  that  prose,  not  verse,  was  the 
true  form  of  his  artistic  expression.  Nor  does  he  ap- 
pear in  his  comedies  in  Venetian  verse  in  the  light  of 
a  true  poet,  but  rather  as  "the  dear  son  and  painter  of 
nature"  Voltaire  once  acclaimed  him.  Here,  quite 
as  truly  as  in  the  prose  comedies  he  penned  in  the  dia- 
lect of  Venice,  does  he  depict  her  sons  and  daughters ; 
for,  in  spite  of  their  rhymes,  the  versified  comedies  he 
wrote  in  the  soft  speech  of  Venice  are  prosaical  both 
in  conception  and  language. 

That  verse,  even  though  written  in  dialect,  cannot 
truly  express  the  feelings  of  housewives,  cooks,  roy- 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  457 

sterers,  and  peasants  should  have  been  apparent  to 
even  so  indifferent  a  poet;  yet  this  is  the  medium  he 
used  for  five  comedies  of  the  life  of  his  native  city,19 
that  are  as  naturalistic  as  any  he  penned  in  Venetian 
prose — not  excepting  The  Boors  and  The  Chiogglan 
Brawls.  Although  there  is  scarcely  a  poetic  thought 
in  any  of  the  five,  they  have  a  certain  rhythmic  charm, 
lacking  in  the  "halting  and  ponderous  Martellian 
verse,  which  deluged  the  merry  city  of  the  sea"  20 — 
a  charm  due,  no  doubt,  to  the  fact  that  he  was  writing 
in  his  mother  tongue.  Yet,  naturalistic  as  these  five 
comedies  are,  they  lack  fine  characterizations  such  as 
Lunardo,  Don  Marzio,  and  Mirandolina;  therefore 
they  cannot  be  ranked  with  his  best  prose  comedies, 
although  two  of  them,  The  Maids-of- All-Work  (Le 
Massere}  and  The  Public  Square  (II  Campiello), 
equal  any  of  these  in  atmosphere  and  truth  to  nature. 
The  former,  a  comedy  of  life  below-stairs,  was 
the  first  of  the  five  comedies  in  Venetian  verse  to  be 
penned;21  several  maids-of-all-work  employed  in 
neighbouring  households  giving  the  play  its  title. 
The  picture  Goldoni  here  draws  of  life  both  above 
and  below  stairs  shows  that  the  relations  between  mis- 

19  Le  Massere;  Le  Donne  di  casa  soa;  /  Morbinosi;  Le  Morbinose,  and 
//  Campiello. 

20  Giuseppe   Ortolani:   op.   cit. 

21  In   his   memoirs    Goldoni   translates  Le   Massere,   the  title   of   this 
play,    as  Les    Cuisinieres;   yet    as   Italian    equivalents   of   the    Venetian 
word  Massera,  Boerio's  dictionary  of  the  Venetian  dialect  gives  fante, 
fantesca  serva,   and   casiera,   all   of  which   signify  servant   rather   than 
cook.    As  the  servants  from  which  the  play  takes  its  name  are  employed 
singly  in  small  establishments,  The  Maids-of -all- Work  is  manifestly  the 
correct  translation. 


458  GOLDONI 

tress  and  maid  were  quite  as  difficult  in  his  day  as  they 
are  now.  Let  us  hope,  however,  that  our  modern 
servants  are  not  so  deficient  in  admirable  qualities 
as  these  faithless  Venetian  maids-of-all-work  who 
rob  their  masters  and  hoodwink  them  too,  who  intro- 
duce lovers  into  their  mistresses's  boudoirs  and  sell 
the  gifts  they  have  been  tipped  to  deliver,  and  then 
go  forth  in  mask  and  domino  for  the  carnival  holi- 
day Goldoni  tells  us  it  was  customary  to  accord  them, 
there  to  frolic  among  their  betters  and  play  amorous 
tricks  upon  them.  Indeed,  the  servants  he  presents 
not  only  in  this  play  but  in  The  Sensible  Wife,  where 
they  tipple  their  employer's  wine;  in  Hazards  of 
Country  Life,  where  they  discuss  their  mistresses' 
love-affairs  and  drink  the  morning  chocolate  pre- 
pared for  them;  and  in  The  Upper  Servant,  where 
one  of  them  leads  a  household  by  the  nose,  are  cer- 
tainly as  impertinent  and  thieving  a  crew  as  ever 
vexed  the  mistress  of  a  house  in  any  age.  Still, 
Corallina  in  The  Devoted  Servant  is  an  incorruptible 
housemaid,  while  Lucietta  of  The  New  House  is  a 
worthy  member  of  her  calling  even  though  her 
tongue  wags;  hence  his  pictures  of  servants  are  not 
all  drawn  mercilessly.  Moreover  in  this  parting  in- 
junction to  his  maids-of-all-work,  he  shows  such  an 
appreciation  of  the  qualities  a  good  servant  should 
possess,  that  apparently  such  were  not  unknown  in 
Venice : 

Poor  drudges,  try  to  act  with  decency. 

Since  to  your  hands  we  trust  ourselves,  good  maids 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  459 

Are  worth  far  more  than  any  golden  treasure. 
Would  you  betray  those  who  give  you  your  bread, 
And  irritate  through  wantonness  your  masters? 
If  you  be  scurvy,  good  maids  may  be  had: 
Dishonest  servants  we  will  send  afar, 
And  to  the  good  extend  a  willing  hand. 

Although  Goldoni  considered  The  Maids-of- All- 
Work  the  most  thoroughly  Venetian  of  his  plays,  like 
The  Housewives  (Le  Donne  di  casa  soa] ,  its  successor, 
and  a  play  written,  as  he  tells  us,  "to  encourage  good 
housewives  and  discourage  bad  ones,"  it  may  be  dis- 
missed as  an  excellent  picture  of  manners  written  in 
rhyme  that  should  have  been  prose,  verse  being  a 
poor  medium  with  which  to  detail  either  the  admira- 
ble qualities  of  housewives  or  the  rascalities  of  serv- 
ants. Although  true  in  atmosphere  and  natural  in 
dialogue,  these  two  comedies  are  both  slender  and 
obvious  in  plot,  and  undistinguished  by  any  notable 
character  study;  a  criticism  that  applies  also  to  The 
Jovial  Men  (I  Morbinosi] ,  a  play  inspired  by  an  out- 
ing on  an  island  opposite  Venice  once  enjoyed  by  a 
hundred  and  twenty  jovial  men  of  the  city,  of  whom 
Goldoni  was  one.  His  words  shall  tell  of  the  play's 
conception: 

This  piece  was  founded  on  fact:  a  merrily  disposed  individual 
proposed  a  picnic  in  a  garden  of  the  island  called  la  Giudecca,  a 
short  distance  from  Venice.  He  gathered  together  a  company  of 
a  hundred  and  twenty,  and  I  was  of  the  number.  We  all  sat  at 
the  same  table,  which  was  comfortably  served,  and  everything  was 
conducted  with  the  most  admirable  order  and  astonishing  pre- 
cision. He  had  no  women  at  dinner,  but  a  number  arrived  be- 
tween the  dessert  and  coffee.  We  had  a  charming  ball,  and  we 


460  GOLDONI 

passed  the  night  very  agreeably.  The  subject  of  this  piece  was 
only  a  fete;  and  it  became  necessary  to  enliven  it  by  interesting 
anecdotes  and  comic  characters.  All  these  I  found  in  our  society; 
and,  without  offending  any  one,  I  endeavoured  to  avail  myself  of 
them. 

The  Jovial  Men  is  a  merry  trifle  held  together  by 
a  slender  thread  of  story  concerning  a  jealous  wife 
who  tracks  her  lord  to  his  jovial  lair,  and  a  shady 
opera  singer,  weary  of  stage  life,  who  torments  a  pair 
of  sparks  with  her  charms,  while  intriguing  for  a  hus- 
band. Its  fascination  lies,  however,  in  its  spirit  of 
good  fellowship:  its  hilarious  merrymaking  with 
wine-cup,  music,  and  dance,  and  in  such  sprightly  out- 
bursts as  the  following  lines,  wherein  Goldoni  voices 
the  charms  of  the  fair  fisher  maidens  who  dwell  upon 
the  isle  where  his  convivial  spirits  are  gathered : 

Dost  think  Venetian  girls  alone  are  true 
And  virtuous?     Though  we  Giudeccans 
Are  not  nobly  born,  yet  have  we  character. 
Let  those  who  seek  attractive  girls,  seek  us — 
In  taste  and  mien,  Giudecca's  maids  are  ne'er 
Excelled;  a  flower  or  ribbon  in  their  hair, 
And  I  am  sure  men  must  admit  their  hearts 
Are  stolen.     In  dancing  la  forlana 
Girls  of  Venice  teach  them  naught.     Of  myself 
I  speak  not;  I'm  not  one  of  them,  but  on 
The  banks  of  this  canal  they  shine  like  stars; 
Pretty  faces,  slender  waists,  little  feet 
Entrancing:     Ah,  if  you  might  see  them  here! 
Alas,  they  will  not  all  step  forth,  I  fear. 

Having  extolled  his  boon  companions  in  The  Jo- 
vial Men,  Goldoni  "paid  court"  during  the  follow- 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  461 

ing  year,  so  he  tells  us,  "to  the  women  of  his  land" 
in  The  Jovial  Women  (Le  Morbinose),  a  comedy 
of  carnival  time  in  which  a  merry  band  of  girls  and 
married  women  play  pranks  upon  a  stiff  and  formal 
Tuscan  until  they  imbue  him  with  the  blithesome 
spirit  of  their  town,  and  love  for  one  of  their  number 
too.  Yet,  full  of  innocent  devilries  as  these  ladies  are, 
one  cannot  help  pitying  poor  Zanetto,  prototype  of 
many  a  modern  husband,  whose  wife  "gads  all  day" ; 
for  when  2anetto's  wife  goes  merrily  forth  to  the 
piazza  in  mask  and  domino  she  takes  with  her  the 
family  purse  and  the  keys  of  the  pantry,  too,  thus 
forcing  him  to  beg  a  surreptitious  meal  from  the  ser- 
vant of  one  of  her  gay  friends. 

By  far  the  most  significant,  as  well  as  the  most 
charming,  of  Goldoni's  comedies  in  Venetian  verse  is 
The  Public  Square  (II  Campiello)  a  play  of  the  com- 
mon people  in  which  is  depicted  the  life  of  one  of 
those  little  open  spaces  called  campielli,  where  two 
tortuous  Venetian  streets  cross  each  other  and  a  whole 
neighbourhood  works  and  plays.  Here  in  the  sun- 
light, artisans  hammer  and  pedlars  shout,  urchins 
prattle  and  women  altercate;  for  here,  away  from 
the  sluggish  canals,  the  splash  of  the  gondola's  oar 
is  not  heard,  nor  my  lady's  laugh  beneath  her  scented 
mask.  The  campiello  which  is  the  scene  of  this  play, 
Goldoni  tells  us,  "is  surrounded  by  little  houses  in- 
habited by  the  lower  orders,  where  gaming,  dancing, 
and  a  hubbub  take  place" ;  yet  the  gaming  is  so  super- 
stitious, the  dancing  so  spontaneous,  and  the  hubbub 


462  GOLDONI 

so  voluble  that  only  in  a  Latin  land  could  they  ob- 
tain, while  only  in  Venice  is  the  soft  speech  of  this 
play  lisped  by  her  impetuous  and  light-hearted  chil- 
dren. So  slight  is  the  plot  that  it  can  scarcely  be 
called  a  play.  Rather  is  it  a  rapidly  moving  picture 
of  the  jealousies  and  joys  of  the  simple  folk  who 
dwell  in  the  "little  houses"  of  this  campiello.  From 
the  moment  Zorzetto  appears  with  his  basket  of  crock- 
ery prizes,  to  collect  the  copper  bezzi  of  the  house- 
wives for  la  venturing  his  lottery  game,  until  pretty 
Gasparina,  who  uses  z  instead  of  s  to  show  her  plebe- 
ian neighbours  she  is  a  zentildonna,  goes  proudly  off 
to  wed  an  impoverished  Neapolitan  cavalier  and  re- 
pair his  fortunes  with  the  sequins  her  crabbed  uncle 
has  saved  for  her  dowry,  there  is  a  succession  of  spir- 
ited scenes  depicted  in  Goldoni's  truest  vein.  We 
see  the  life  of  Venice  and  hear  the  gabble  of  her 
streets :  the  young  make  love,  and  both  old  and  young 
eat,  drink,  gamble,  dance,  and  speak  ill  of  their  neigh- 
bours, in  a  way  so  true  to  nature  that  we  forget  this 
softly  rhymed  picture  couched  in  verses  of  varying 
measure  is  a  play  and  not  a  little  piece  of  life  snatched 
bodily  from  the  streets  of  Venice. 
Indeed  it  is  in  his  untranslatable,  unconventional 
plays  of  the  people,  such  as  The  Public  Square,  that 
Goldoni,  the  true  poet  of  a  people,  is  unique  among 
the  word's  great  dramatists.  What  matters  it  that 
this  bit  of  dramatic  gossamer  is  held  together  by  the 
merest  thread  of  a  plot?  Old  Pasqua,  the  busy-body, 
and  old  Gate,  the  babbler,  who  squabble  and  tell  each 


THE   PASTRY  HUCKSTRESS 


Museo   Correr 


COMEDIES  IN  VERSE  463 

other  plain  truths,  are  not  characters  in  a  play,  but 
rather  two  flesh-and-blood  gossips  who  step  into 
this  campiello  from  their  respective  doorways,  the 
one  to  sweep  it  clear  of  refuse  with  her  meddlesome 
broom,  the  other  to  prattle  its  small  talk.  Moreover, 
their  daughters,  Lucietta  and  Gnese,  are  a  pair  of 
warm-blooded  girls  of  Venice  as  ready  to  love  as  to 
dance.  Anzoletto  and  Zorzetto,  who  drag  the  whole 
neighbourhood  into  lovers'  quarrels  as  meaningless 
as  those  of  Chioggia,  are  warm-hearted  lads  of  Ven- 
ice, too,  as  quick  to  embrace  as  to  fight,  when  once  a 
cavalier  from  Naples  has  offered  to  regale  the  neigh- 
bourhood if  they  will  stop  their  quarrel.  Yes,  this 
campiello  to  which  Goldoni  leads  us,  across  arched 
bridges  and  through  a  maze  of  ill-smelling  streets, 
does  not  seem  like  the  scene  of  a  play;  and  when  with 
pretty  Gasparina  we  leave  it  and  the  fair  city  of  which 
it  is  a  homely  part,  well  may  we  exclaim  with  her: 

Alas,  my  Venice,  oh,  my  dear, 

How  deep  my  grief  now  parting's  near! 

Before  I  leave,  I  hail  thee,  then 

O  dearest  Venice,  fare  thee  well, 

O  Venice  mine,  ah,  fare  thee  well, 

My  good  Venetians: — gentlemen! 

O  Campiello  dear,  farewell; 

Or  plain  or  fair  I  cannot  tell — 

If  plain  it  brings  my  heart  unease, 

Yet  fair's  not  fair  unless  it  please. 


XIV 

EXPATRIATION 

AFTER  Carlo  Gozzi's  triumph,  Goldoni  ac- 
cepted, it  will  be  remembered,  an  engage- 
ment for  two  years  as  playwright  of  Les 
Comediens  du  rol  de  la  troupe  itallenne  and  bade 
farewell  to  the  inconstant  public  he  had  served  faith- 
fully and  brilliantly  during  fourteen  laborious  years. 
"He  was  stripped  of  his  theatrical  honours,"  says 
Baretti;  while  Chiari,  his  erstwhile  rival,  now  en- 
tirely forgotten,  retired  to  a  country-house  in  the 
environs  of  Brescia.1  Although  his  fickle  country- 
men worshipped  at  a  false  god's  shrine,  Goldoni's 
fame  was  still  sufficient  to  insure  him  a  livelihood 
abroad. 

The  first  gentlemen  of  the  King's  bedchamber 
had  instructed  Francesco  Antonio  Zanuzzi,  an  actor 
of  the  Comedie  Italienne,  who  knew  the  dramatist, 
to  bid  him  come  to  Paris,  the  invitation  being  offi- 
cially delivered  to  him  by  the  French  ambassador  in 
Venice.  Goldoni's  Parisian  engagement  therefore 
was  an  official  appointment;  yet  his  salary  seems  to 
have  been  paid  in  part  by  private  subscription.  In  a 
letter  to  a  friend  in  Vienna,  Favart,  the  father  of 

1  An  Account  of  the  Manners  and  Customs  of  Italy. 
464 


EXPATRIATION  465 

French  opera  comique,  who  became  Goldoni's  Pari- 
sian crony,  says  that  he  was  to  be  paid  seven  thousand 
francs  a  year,2  and  that  several  lovers  of  Italian  had 
promised  to  contribute  a  portion  of  that  sum,  one 
ardent  man  of  letters  who  did  not  understand  that 
language  being  willing  to  subscribe  twenty-five  louis 
"for  the  actors'  gestures." 

France  was  in  the  throes  of  the  Seven  Years'  War 
and  her  finances  were  in  a  hopeless  muddle;  yet  there 
was  money  enough  both  in  her  public  treasury  and  in 
the  purses  of  her  citizens  to  hire  a  gifted  foreigner 
whose  praises  had  been  sung  by  her  foremost  man 
of  letters.  With  Voltaire's  approval  to  give  him 
courage,  and  the  promise  of  a  more  bountiful  salary 
than  he  had  ever  enjoyed  in  Venice,  Goldoni  made 
leisurely  preparations  for  his  journey.  His  aunt 
went  to  live  with  relatives,  and  his  niece,  Petronilla 
Margherita,  was  placed  in  a  convent,  the  supervision 
of  her  education  and  welfare  being  confided  to  Jean 
Cornet,  a  Frenchman  engaged  in  business  in  Venice 
with  his  elder  brother  Gabriel,  the  agent  of  the 
Elector  of  Bavaria.  To  his  worthless  brother  Gian 
Paolo,  Goldoni  magnanimously  consigned  the  in- 
come of  such  property  as  had  escaped  the  wreck  of 
the  family  fortune,  and,  after  entrusting  Count 
Gasparo  Gozzi  with  the  proof-reading  of  the  sub- 
scription edition  of  his  works  which  Pasquali  was 
publishing,  he  left  Venice  during  the  month  of  April, 

2  In   a  letter  to  Albergati-Capacelli    (Jan.  loth,   1764)    Goldoni  states 
that  his  salary  was  six  thousand  francs. 


466  GOLDONI 

1762,  accompanied  by  patient  Nicoletta,  his  wife, 
and  Antonio  Francesco  Goldoni,  his  nephew,  then 
a  lad  of  twelve  or  thereabouts. 

Journeying  by  way  of  Padua  and  Ferrara  to 
Bologna,  he  there  visited  the  Marchese  Albergati- 
Capacelli,  and  wrote  for  his  host,  though  suffering 
from  rheumatic  fever,  a  merry  play  for  music.3 
Being  bled  by  candlelight,  he  had  the  great  pleasure 
"of  seeing  his  blood,  black  as  mulberries,  yet  unin- 
flamed,  strong,  and  vigorous,  gush  forth  as  from  a 
fountain."  4 

After  his  recovery  he  enjoyed  for  a  time  the  atten- 
tions of  both  Albergati  and  the  latter's  cicisbea,  the 
Contessa  Orsi,  then  fared  on  to  Parma  to  present  the 
first  two  volumes  of  the  Pasquali  edition  to  his  ducal 
patron  Don  Philip,  spending  on  the  way  thither  a 
day  at  Reggio  in  the  congenial  company  of  Paradisi, 
a  poet  engaged  in  translating  Voltaire's  tragedies.5 
At  Parma  he  brushed  up  his  French,  obtained  a  re- 
newal of  his  pension,  was  presented  to  the  ladies  of 
the  ducal  family,  and  made  peace  with  Frugoni,  then 
in  his  seventieth  year,  who  was  attached  to  the  Par- 
mesan court. 

This  aged  poet,  whose  name  was  paraphrased  by 
Baretti  to  signify  affected  language,  had,  it  appears, 
paid  metrical  court  some  years  previously  to  Aurisbe 
Tarsense,  a  lady  who  in  un-Arcadian  fields  was  the 
widow  of  a  Venetian  patrician  of  scant  fortune, 

3  La  Bella  verita. 

4  Letter  to  Albergati-Capacelli,  July  2,  1762. 
s Ibid. 


EXPATRIATION  467 

named  Giannantonio  Gritti.  Chiari,  too,  had  sung 
her  praises  as  the  Eurilla  of  his  pastoral  verse,  but 
Goldoni  enjoyed  her  "passionate  adoration."  When 
in  1759  our  dramatist  addressed  to  her  some  verses 
in  which  Frugoni  was  satirized,  the  old  bard's 
jealous  anger  burst  its  bounds  and  he  did  not  make 
peace  with  him  until  he  visited  Parma  on  the  way  to 
France.6  "This  new  Petrarch  had  his  Laura  in 
Venice,"  Goldoni  says.  "He  sang  from  afar  the 
graces  and  talents  of  charming  Aurisbe  Tarsense,  a 
shepherdess  of  Arcadia,  while  I  saw  her  every  day. 
Frugoni  was  jealous  of  me  and  was  glad  to  see  me 
take  my  departure." 

Having  some  volumes  of  his  plays  to  present  to 
Princess  Henrietta  of  Modena,  Goldoni  went  to  her 
country  seat  when  he  left  Parma  and  there  passed 
three  days  "delightfully";  journeying  thence  to 
Piacenza,  he  and  his  family  were  entertained  in  that 
city  by  the  Marquis  Casati,  a  subscriber  to  the  Pas- 
quali  edition,  and  from  beneath  his  hospitable  roof 
they  travelled  to  Genoa,  where,  amid  "the  tears  and 
sobs"  of  good  Nicoletta's  relations,  they  embarked 
in  a  felucca  for  Antibes. 

After  nearly  foundering  while  doubling  the  Cape 
of  Noli,  the  felucca  luckily  reached  the  roadstead  of 
that  town  and  remained  at  anchor  there  until  the  sea 
subsided  sufficiently  for  her  to  proceed  to  Nice, 
where  our  travellers  were  glad  to  disembark  and  go 
by  carriage  to  Antibes.  "I  set  out  from  Nice  the 

6  Giuseppe  Ortolani:  op.  cit. ;  Achille  Neri:  Aneddote  goldoniane. 


468  GOLDONI 

next  day/'  says  Goldoni,  "and  crossed  the  Var,  which 
separates  France  from  Italy.  I  bade  farewell  anew 
to  my  country  and  invoked  the  shade  of  Moliere  to 
guide  me  in  his." 

At  the  frontier  he  "caught  a  first  glimpse  of 
French  politeness" ;  for  his  trunks,  which  had  been 
ransacked  by  Italian  customs-officers,  were  not  dis- 
turbed, while  at  Antibes  the  commandant  refused 
to  examine  his  passport,  and  told  him  "to  leave 
quickly  because  Paris  awaited  him  impatiently." 
Heedless  of  this  admonition,  he  journeyed  slowly  by 
way  of  Marseilles,  Aix,  and  Avignon,  to  Lyons, 
where,  receiving  a  curt  letter  from  Zanuzzi  urging 
haste,  he  learned  that  the  forces  of  the  Comedie 
Italienne  had  been  united  since  his  departure  from 
Venice  with  those  of  the  Opera  Comique,  the  receipts 
of  the  Italians  having  sunk  too  low  to  warrant  their 
sole  use  of  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne. 

Though  his  talents  had  been  engaged  to  buoy  up 
the  sinking  fortunes  of  his  countrymen,  though  he 
confesses  that  Zanuzzi's  letter  ought  to  have  made 
him  leave  Lyons  immediately,  he  tarried  in  that  city 
nearly  a  fortnight  in  order  to  see  its  sights  and  be 
dined  and  wined  by  its  rich  manufacturers.  Con- 
tinuing his  journey  when  it  suited  his  convenience,  he 
enjoyed  the  beauties  of  the  fertile  land  through  which 
he  passed,  and  reached  Villejuif,  in  the  environs  of 
Paris,  on  August  26th,  1762,  more  than  four  months 
after  his  departure  from  Venice.  There  he  was  met 
by  Zanuzzi  and  Elena  Savi,  the  leading  lady  of  the 


EXPATRIATION  469 

troupe  he  had  come  to  serve.  Escorting  him  to  the 
capital  in  their  own  carriage,  they  lodged  and  supped 
him  in  their  apartment  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Denis, 
and  when  he  opened  his  eyes  on  the  morrow  his 
.awakening  was  as  pleasant  as  his  dreams,  for  he  was 
^'in  Paris  and  happy." 

Hastening  forth  on  foot  with  Zanuzzi,  he  paid  his 
respects  to  the  Due  d'Aumont,  the  officiating  gen- 
tleman of  the  king's  bedchamber,  catching,  mean- 
while, a  sight  of  the  great  city  he  was  "dying  to  see." 
In  the  evening  he  dined  with  Camilla  Veronese,  the 
soubrette  of  the  Italian  troupe,  who  was  a  daughter 
of  a  provincial  pantaloon  he  had  known  at  Feltre 
when  he  was  coadjutor  to  the  criminal  chancellor  of 
that  town.  After  "a  very  dainty  dinner,"  shared  with 
an  entertaining  company,  he  went  to  the  Hotel  de 
Bourgogne  and  listened  to  a  French  opera  comique 
which  he  found  to  be  "a  strange  mixture  of  prose  and 
tunes." 

But  he  had  not  come  to  Paris  merely  to  enjoy  its 
sights  and  pleasures;  therefore  he  rented  an  apart- 
ment near  the  Comedie  Italienne  and  began  to  study 
the  characteristics  of  the  actors  for  whom  he  was  to 
write  comedies,  a  task  in  which  he  was  materially 
aided  by  his  neighbour  Madame  Francesco  Ricco- 
boni,7  an  actress  who  had  recently  retired  from  the 

7  Marie  Jeanne  de  Heurles  de  Laboras  de  Mezieres  (1714-1792),  trans- 
lator of  Fielding's  Amelia  and  author  of  Miss  Jenny,  a  novel  Goldoni 
translated  into  Italian  during  the  last  years  of  his  life.  Her  husband,  the 
^on  of  Luigi  Riccoboni,  was  an  actor  and  playwright,  as  well  as  the 
author  of  L'Art  du  theatre. 


47o  GOLDONI 

stage  to  devote  herself  to  literature,  and  who  knew 
the  Italian  players  so  thoroughly  that  her  account  of 
their  talents  proved  to  be  "very  just"  and  worthy  of 
her  "honesty  and  sincerity." 

The  plays  he  wrote  while  in  France  form  the  topic 
of  the  succeeding  chapter;  hence  it  is  only  necessary 
to  record  here  that  during  the  two  years  of  his  en- 
gagement with  the  Comedie  Italienne  he  worked 
faithfully  in  the  fulfilment  of  his  contract,  some  thirty 
scenari  and  comedies  being  penned  by  him.  The 
Italian  players  he  served,  being  inexperienced  in  act- 
ing written  plays  and  their  public  used  to  seeing  them 
in  extemporized  farces,  he  was  compelled  to  turn 
backward  in  his  art  and  begin  again  the  reform  of 
comedy  for  which  he  had  striven  so  valiantly  in  his 
native  land.  Meanwhile  he  learned  to  love  Paris 
and  her  people. 

His  modest  temporary  lodgings — three  rooms  and 
a  study,  for  which  he  paid  a  monthly  rental  of  sixty- 
four  francs — were  in  the  Rue  Comtesse  d'Artois ;  8 
near  by  stood  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  where  the 
Italians  played,  and  scarcely  a  stone's  throw  away 
were  the  Louvre  and  the  Palais  Royal.  Living  in 
its  very  heart  he  fell  a  victim  to  the  allurement  of  the 
bright  city  he  thus  describes : 

Paris  is  a  world  in  itself.  Everything  there  is  on  a  large  scale ; 
there  is  much  that  is  good  and  much  that  is  bad.  Whether  you 
go  to  the  theatres,  the  promenades,  or  the  pleasure  resorts,  every 
place  is  full — even  to  the  churches,  and  everywhere  there  is  a 
crowd.  In  a  city  of  eight  hundred  thousand  souls  there  must 
8  Letter  to  Gabriel  Cornet,  Sept.  6,  1762. 


EXPATRIATION  471 

necessarily  be  more  good  and  bad  people  than  anywhere  else  .  .  . 
The  rake  will  easily  find  the  means  to  satisfy  his  passions.  A 
good  man  will  be  encouraged  in  the  exercise  of  his  virtues.  .  .  . 
The  further  I  went  the  more  I  became  absorbed  in  the  ranks, 
the  classes,  the  ways  of  living  and  the  different  modes  of  thinking. 
.  .  .  But  in  the  course  of  time  I  looked  with  another  eye  upon 
that  immense  city,  its  people,  its  amusements,  and  its  dangers.  I 
had  had  time  for  reflection  and  I  had  learned  that  the  confusion 
I  had  experienced  was  not  a  physical  or  moral  defect  of  the  land; 
hence  I  decided  in  all  good  faith  that  curiosity  and  impatience 
had  been  the  cause  of  my  bewilderment,  and  that  it  was  possible 
to  enjoy  Paris  and  be  amused  there,  without  growing  weary,  and 
without  sacrificing  one's  time  and  tranquillity. 

Before  beginning  his  work  at  the  Comedie  Ital- 
ienne,  he  obtained  from  its  actors  a  furlough  of  four 
months  for  the  purpose  of  studying  their  character- 
istics and  requirements.  While  enjoying  the  leisure 
thus  acquired  he  went  to  Fontainebleau,  during  the 
autumn  of  1762,  and  witnessed  there  a  command  per- 
formance of  his  scenario,  Harlequin's  Son  Lost  and 
Found.  But  so  many  quips  from  Moliere's  Ima- 
ginary Cuckold  (Le  Cocu  imaginaire)  were  inter- 
polated, he  says,  that  "the  court  was  displeased  and 
the  play  a  failure."  This  bungling  of  his  scenario 
by  comedians  greedy  for  laughs  showed  him  that  he 
did  not  have  to  do  with  such  actors  as  he  had  left 
behind  him  in  Italy,  and  that  he  was  no  longer  the 
master  he  had  been  at  home.  He  saw  the  royal  fam- 
ily, however,  the  ministers  and  diplomats,  and  viewed 
at  close  range  the  glitter  of  a  profligate  court,  "the 
Dauphin  being  gracious  enough  to  speak  to  him 


twice."  9 


9  Letter  to  Gabriel  Cornet,  Oct.  24th,  1762. 


472  GOLDONI 

Upon  returning  to  Paris  he  moved  from  his  modest 
rooms  in  the  rue  Comtesse  d'Artois  to  more  preten- 
tious quarters  overlooking  the  gardens  of  the  Palais 
Royal,  which  he  furnished  tastefully  at  an  expense  of 
four  thousand  francs  "in  the  hope  that  the  Muses 
would  descend  more  willingly  upon  the  verdure  sur- 
rounding his  study  and  the  allurement  of  the  light  o' 
loves  who  strolled  beneath  his  windows.10  From  his 
study  he  could  see  petits  maitres  ogling  pretty 
women,  ardent  lovers  lolling  with  their  mistresses 
beneath  the  trees,  and — a  novel  sight  certainly  to 
one  who  came  from  the  land  of  cicisbeism — hus- 
bands promenading  contentedly  with  their  wives. 
Opposite  his  window  stood  the  famous  Cracow  tree, 
under  the  spreading  branches  of  which  newsmongers 
discussed  the  affairs  of  the  nation ;  on  the  footway  be- 
fore the  neighbouring  Cafe  de  Foy  light-hearted 
merrymakers  breakfasted  in  the  open  air. 

Such  relaxations  were  helpful  to  him  at  times,  he 
says,  "since  they  rested  his  mind  agreeably  and  he 
was  able  to  return  to  his  work  with  more  vigour  and 
cheerfulness."  He  had  need,  alas,  of  both  these  qual- 
ities, for  when  the  Italian  actors  produced  the  first 
comedy  he  wrote  for  their  stage,11  it  failed  so  dis- 
mally that  it  was  withdrawn  after  its  fourth  per- 
formance. Yet  the  time  for  a  successful  play  was 
propitious.  War  had  drained  the  resources  of  the 
nation  during  seven  ignoble  years,  and  peace  was 
being  signed  in  Paris  at  that  very  moment. 

10  Letter  to  Albergati,  Jan.  24,  1763.  ^L'Amore  paterno. 


EXPATRIATION  473 

Although  the  French  public  was  attuned  to  merri- 
ment, Goldoni  had  not  yet  learned  its  taste,  and  the 
chagrin  he  experienced  was  so  great  that  he  was  on 
the  point  of  leaving  Paris.  Pride  and  the  charm  of 
that  fair  city  kept  him  at  his  task,  however,  until  he 
had  fulfilled  his  contract;  but  after  his  first  failure 
the  Italian  actors  lost  faith  in  him.  "They  won't 
learn  comedies  that  are  written,"  he  complained,  "and 
they  don't  know  how  to  improvise  them."  When 
the  first  year  of  his  engagement  drew  to  a  close  he 
vowed  that  if  the  second  had  no  better  fortune  he 
would  leave  Paris.  "Man  does  not  live  by  bread 
alone,"  he  confessed  to  his  friend  Albergati,12  "for 
reputation  is  the  food  of  upright  men,  and  that  will 
make  me  return  to  Italy  sooner."  But  instead  of 
forsaking  the  country  of  his  adoption,  he  acceded  to 
the  actors'  demands  for  improvised  comedies. 

Early  in  the  second  year  of  his  engagement  one  of 
the  scenari  he  penned  13  proved  so  successful  that  he 
was  able  to  announce  to  Albergati  the  establishment 
of  his  Parisian  reputation;  a  triumph  fully  attested 
by  his  contemporaries,  since  Grimm  saw  in  this  pros- 
titution of  his  dramatic  talents  to  the  exigencies  of 
the  theatre,  enough  material  for  three  or  four  come- 
dies; while  Favart  declared  that  it  forced  all  the 
French  actors  to  admit  there  had  been  no  such  genius 
since  Moliere.  Moreover,  Desboulmiers,  a  lesser 
light,  exclaimed  that  "it  would  be  necessary  to  be 

12  Letter  of  Aug.  isth,  1763. 

13  Gli  Amori  di  Arlecchino  e  dl  Camilla,  produced  Sept.  27th,  1763. 


474  GOLDONI 

Moliere  in  order  to  be  able  to  praise  its  author  worth- 
ily." 14 

The  gall  of  previous  failure  was  tempered  by  this 
success;  yet  to  win  it  Goldoni  resorted  to  the  tricks 
of  the  improvised  comedy  he  had  fought  so  valiantly 
to  banish  from  the  Italian  stage.  "Any  sacrifice, 
however,  was  sweet,"  he  declares,  "any  trouble  bear- 
able for  the  pleasure  of  remaining  two  years  in 
Paris";  his  love  for  that  engaging  city  being  en- 
hanced, no  doubt,  by  the  many  friends  he  acquired 
as  a  stranger  within  its  hospitable  gates,  and  the  re- 
spect paid  to  his  talents  by  its  actors  and  playwrights. 

As  a  distinguished  foreigner  he  had  the  entree  to 
the  Comedie  Franchise,  and  on  the  occasion  of  his 
first  visit  to  that  classic  playhouse,  when  he  saw  Mo- 
liere's  Misanthrope  performed  by  "incomparable 
actors,"  he  longed  to  see  one  of  his  own  pieces 
played  by  "such  fellows," — a  satisfaction  the  Fates, 
as  will  be  seen,  had  in  store  for  him.  It  is  not  strange 
that  he  >hould  have  been  impressed  by  the  acting  of 
Les  Gomediens  du  roi  de  la  troupe  franqaise,  since 
in  their  ranks  at  that  time  were  Mme.  Champmesle, 
Mile.  Clairon,  Lekain,  Preville,  and  Mole — a  his- 
trionic galaxy  that  perhaps  has  never  been  eclipsed. 
To  the  art  of  the  Comedie  Franchise  Goldoni  pays 
this  still  merited  tribute: 

Jftere  is  the  school  of  declamation  where  nothing  is  forced,  either 
in  gesture  or  expression;  the  steps,  the  movements  of  the  arms, 
the  glances,  the  dumb  scenes  are  studied;  yet  art  hides  the  study 
under  the  semblance  of  nature. 

14  E.  Maddalena:  Goldoni  e  Favart;  Giulio  Caprin:  op.  cit. ;  etc. 


EXPATRIATION  475 

Though  the  plays  he  saw  at  the  House  of  Moliere 
were  surpassingly  acted,  one  of  them,  Diderot's 
Father  of  a  Family  (Pere  de  famille)  involved  him 
in  a  contretemps  with  its  distinguished  author.  When 
the  production  of  this  didactic  comedy  was  an- 
nounced, Freron,  the  journalist  whom  Voltaire  had 
satirized  upon  the  stage,  maliciously  said  in  print 
that,  as  Diderot  had  filched  scenes  from  Goldoni's 
True  Friend  (II  Vero  amico)  to  embellish  his  Nat- 
ural Son  (Le  Fils  naturel),  it  was  reasonable  to 
suppose  that  since  the  Venetian  had  already  given 
birth  to  a  Father  of  a  Family,  chance  might  again 
make  the  comedies  of  these  actors  coincide. 

"God  gave  Diderot  every  quality,"  says  Arsene 
Houssaye; 15  and  in  the  generous  distribution  resent- 
ment was  apparently  included,  for  the  great  ency- 
clopaedist was  so  nettled  by  this  largely  unmerited 
charge  of  plagiarism  that  he  took  occasion  to  dis- 
miss the  dramatist  he  was  accused  of  imitating  as 
"Charles  Goldoni,  who  has  written  some  sixty 
farces."  16  Moreover,  when  his  Venetian  rival,  ac- 
companied by  Duni,  the  composer,  paid  him  a  cere- 
monious visit  in  the  hope  of  convincing  him  that  his 
indignation  was  unmerited,  Diderot  resented  so 
warmly  the  wound  Goldoni  had  inadvertently  dealt 
his  pride  that  Duni,  to  mollify  him,  was  obliged  to 
quote  these  lines  of  Tasso : 

'T  is  time  all  bitter  memories  were  effaced, 
And  bygone  things  by  amnesty  embraced. 

^Histoire  du  XLme  Fauteull.  16  De  la  Poesie  dramatique. 


476  GOLDONI 

Diderot  "appeared  to  subscribe  to  these  senti- 
ments," says  Goldoni,  and  after  reciprocal  compli- 
ments had  passed  between  the  encyclopaedist  and  him- 
self, he  took  his  leave,  feeling  that  he  had  gained  the 
esteem  of  a  man  who  had  been  sadly  prejudiced 
against  him  and  that  he  might  count  that  a  triumphal 
day.  It  proved  at  least  a  convivial  day,  since  he 
dined  that  evening  with  a  coterie  of  nine  literary  in- 
timates who,  because  they  broke  bread  together  every 
Sunday,  styled  themselves  the  Dominicaux,  their 
weekly  meetings  for  good  fellowship  and  cheer  being 
termed  Dominicales. 

Favart,  the  librettist,  whose  romantic  love-story 
still  awaits  a  novelist's  pen,  was  a  member  of  this  club, 
and  he  probably  introduced  his  Italian  colleague 
to  its  select  precincts.  Even  before  the  latter's  ad- 
vent in  France,  Favart  had  acclaimed  him  "our  dear 
Goldoni";  moreover,  three  or  four  days  after  his 
arrival,  the  transalpine  dramatist  praised  Favart  in 
verse,  "his  house  being  one  of  the  first,  if  not  the 
first,  he  frequented  in  Paris."  17 

To  the  end  of  his  life  Favart  remained  Goldoni's 
friend,  and  so  did  Pierre  Antoine  de  la  Place,  the 
journalist — another  of  these  Dominicaux;  the  other 
members  of  the  coterie  being  De  la  Garde,  the  critic 
who  was  La  Pompadour's  secretary;  Saurin,  the 
Academician;  Antoine  Louis,  secretary  of  the  Royal 
Academy  of  Surgery;  Jouen,  a  fameless  adherent; 
the  younger  Crebillon,  and  the  Abbe  de  la  Porte,  a 

17  E.  Maddalena:     Goldoni  e  Favart. 


EXPATRIATION  477 

gazetteer  whose  aim  was  to  discredit  all  that  scur- 
rilous Freron  praised. 

Had  not  Goldoni  penned  The  Inquisitive  Women 
before  he  came  to  France,  this  play  might  have  been 
inspired  by  the  Dominicaux,  for  the  only  law  gov- 
erning their  festivities,  he  tells  us,  "was  to  exclude 
women."  Yet  brazen  Sophie  Arnould,  of  angelic 
voice  and  racy  tongue,  invaded  a  dominicale  held  at 
La  Pompadour's  hotel  with  De  la  Garde  as  the  host, 
and  so  captivated  the  misogynic  revellers  with  her 
beauty  and  wit  that  they  proclaimed  her  their  "sole 
dominical  sister."  18 

Having  no  role  that  day,  the  diva  bade  them  attend 
the  opera  with  her,  but  the  songs  Goldoni  had  heard 
in  drawing-rooms  made  him  loath  to  subject  his  Ital- 
ian tympani  to  the  strain  of  French  screeching  on  a 
larger  scale.  To  convince  him  that  he  misjudged 
the  native  music,  fair  Sophie  sang  him  a  song  with 
her  own  charming  voice.  "Kiss  me,"  she  cried,  as 
the  last  notes  died  away,  "and  come  to  the  opera," 
a  dual  invitation  a  man  addicted  to  soubrettes  could 
not  well  withstand.  At  the  opera  he  found  that 
"everything  was  beautiful  and  magnificent,  except 
the  music,"  and  shocked  his  French  friends  by  de- 
claring when  the  curtain  fell  that  "it  had  been  heaven 
for  the  eyes  but  hell  for  the  ears,"  a  verdict  according 
with  Rousseau's  dictum  that  "there  is  neither  measure 
nor  melody  in  France." 

Thus  in  the  agreeable  society  of  literary  men  and 

18  Dedication  to  Favart  of   Un   Curioso  accidente. 


478  GOLDONI 

stage-folk,  Goldoni  passed  the  leisure  moments  of 
the  years  he  served  the  Comedie  Italienne,  and 
though  he  had  turned  life's  half-way  mark,  his  eyes 
were  not  too  dim,  it  would  seem,  to  blink  at  the  sight 
of  a  pretty  face.  Regarding  the  wiles  of  Parisian 
soubrettes  he  is  singularly  silent;  yet  he  says  it  would 
be  impossible  "to  be  more  blithe  and  pleasing"  than 
Camilla  Veronese,  the  soubrette  of  the  Italian 
troupe;  so  perhaps  his  susceptible  heart  was  victim- 
ized by  her  charms.  At  all  events,  like  the  Panta- 
lone  of  his  Whimsical  Old  Man,  he  was  "a  well  pre- 
served winter  pear  with  plenty  of  pulp,  juice,  and 
substance,"  since  during  the  second  year  of  his  en- 
gagement with  the  Comedie  Italienne  he  was  haled 
before  a  French  tribunal  by  a  certain  Catherine 
Lefebvre  and  charged  with  being  her  betrayer.  The 
lady  bore  an  alias,  however,  and  the  case  was  settled 
out  of  court;  therefore,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  good 
Papa  Goldoni,  instead  of  being  guilty  at  his  ripe 
age  of  such  an  iniquity,  had  merely  been  unwary 
enough  to  be  entrapped  by  a  wily  blackmailer  on  the 
outlook  for  guileless  foreigners.19 

Although  biographical  candour  prevents  the  gloss- 
ing over  of  this  shady  incident,  it  is  a  relief,  never- 
theless, to  turn  from  it  to  an  honourable  intercourse. 
Goldoni  had  known  in  Venice,  it  will  be  remembered, 
Madame  du  Boccage,  whom  he  had  called  "the 
Parisian  Sappho,"  and  in  her  "agreeable  and  instruc- 

19  E.   Campardon :    Les  Comediens  du  roi  de  la  troupe  Italienne.     V. 
Carrera:    Di  un  nuovo  documento  intorno  alba  vita  di  C.  G. 


EXPATRIATION  479 

tive  conversation"  had  whiled  away  many  a  plea- 
surable hour.  When  he  set  out  for  Paris,  Count  Al- 
garotti, a  cosmopolitan  literary  globe-trotter  of  con- 
siderable notoriety  and  little  merit,  charged  him,  on 
behalf  of  Farsetti,  a  poet,  with  the  delivery  to  her 
of  a  book.  Goldoni  mislaid  it  and  several  months 
passed  before  he  could  find  it,  and  meanwhile  he 
dared  not  pay  his  respects  to  his  talented  friend,  the 
poetess.  When  he  finally  found  Farsetti's  book  he 
presented  it,  together  with  profuse  apologies  for  his 
dereliction,  to  Madame  du  Boccage,  who  forthwith 
invited  him  to  dine.  "Goldoni  loves  Paris  madly," 
she  wrote  Algarotti  after  the  dramatist  had  been  her 
guest.20  "Even  the  hubbub  of  the  streets  pleases  him, 
and  save  for  the  opera  and  the  high  cost  of  pro- 
visions, he  is  enchanted  with  everything." 

In  the  salon  of  Madame  du  Boccage  notable  peo- 
ple of  all  nationalities  gathered,  "every  foreigner  dis- 
tinguished for  his  good  qualities  or  his  talents  being 
eager  upon  arriving  in  Paris  to  pay  court  to  her." 
Her  genial  Venetian  guest  was  persona  grata  also  in 
the  drawing-rooms  of  the  Countess  Bianchetti,  a 
charming  fellow-countrywoman,  and  Madame  Po- 
thovin  d'Huillet,  the  widow  of  a  Parisian  legal  light, 
who  spoke  Italian  fluently.  He  so  bored  Madame 
du  Deffand,  however,  when  he  read  her  one  of  his 
best  comedies,  that  to  Horace  Walpole  she  pro- 
nounced it  "the  coldest  and  flattest  play  of  the  day."  21 

20  Letter  to  Algarotti,  March  24th,  1763. 

21  Letter  to  Walpole,  Oct.  9th,  1771.     The  play  was  Le  Bourru  bien- 
jaisant. 


480  GOLDONI 

Yet  all  Frenchwomen  of  intelligence  did  not  thus 
decry  Goldoni's  talent.  Jeanne  Franchise  Floncel, 
the  wife  of  a  noted  bibliophile,  translated  two  acts 
of  his  Venetian  Advocate  into  French,  while  "a 
charming  lady,"  whom  he  fails  to  name,  not  only 
introduced  him  to  a  Parisian  dandy  as  "the  Moliere 
of  Italy,"  but  so  encouraged  him  by  praising  some 
scenari 22  he  had  outlined  for  the  Comedie  Italienne 
that  he  made  from  them  a  pleasing  trilogy  of  written 
comedies  for  the  stage  of  his  native  city. 

At  the  Venetian  embassy  he  was  ever  a  welcome 
guest,  and  to  the  Chevalier  Tiepolo,  the  ambassador, 
he  dedicated  the  first  comedy  he  penned  in  France.23 
Though  Tiepolo  soon  retired  from  the  service,  his 
successors,  Andrea  Gradenigo  and  Sebastiano  and 
Giovanni  Mocenigo,  continued  the  ambassadorial 
courtesy,  the  last  named  being  the  patrician  whose 
wedding  to  a  doge's  daughter  Goldoni  had  attended 
in  1752.  At  the  table  of  Voltaire's  friend,  Count 
d'Argental,  the  Parmesan  plenipotentiary,  as  well  as 
in  his  private  theatre,  there  was  always  a  seat  for  our 
dramatist,  and  under  this  hospitable  roof  he  met  many 
a  congenial  literary  amateur.  The  Dutch  ambassa- 
dor, too,  honoured  him  with  his  protection,  while 
with  his  excellency's  colleagues  of  the  diplomatic 
corps,  he  "passed  agreeably,"  he  says,  "a  considerable 
portion  of  his  time." 

Only  his  failure  to  satisfy  his  dramatic  ambitions 

22  Gli  Amori  di  Arlecchino  e  dl  Camilla;  La  Gelosia  di  Arlecchino; 
Le  Inquietudini  di  Camilla.  23  L'Amore  paterno. 


EXPATRIATION  481 

marred  the  pleasure  of  his  life  in  Paris>  for  he  was 
treated  with  distinction  by  society,  whilst  among  the 
Dominicaux  he  found  the  good  companions  "that  do 
converse  and  waste  the  time  together."  The  two 
most  notable  Frenchmen  in  his  own  profession  he 
does  not  confess  to  knowing;  but  Marivaux,  whose 
talents  were  only  begrudgingly  recognized  by  his  con- 
temporaries, was  dying  almost  in  obscurity,  whilst 
the  star  of  Beaumarchais's  genius  has  not  yet  risen. 
Voltaire,  whose  sponsorship  had  given  Goldoni  an 
international  reputation,  was  in  Switzerland,  and 
Rousseau  he  did  not  know  until  a  later  date ;  but  Mar- 
montel  "honoured  him  with  his  friendship"  and 
praised  his  work  in  the  Mercure  de  France. 

When  the  glory  of  the  Dominicaux  had  waned, 
Goldoni  assisted  Favart  and  De  la  Place  in  the  for- 
mation of  a  new  club  he  styles  a  pique-nique,  which 
met  once  a  week  at  L'Epee  de  Bois,  an  inn  near  the 
Louvre.  At  this  convivial  board  he  became  intimate 
with  a  coterie  of  minor  literary  and  dramatic  lights, 
among  whom  the  poets  Laujon  and  Colardeau  are 
perhaps  the  least  obscure.  But  the  pique-nique  club 
was  disrupted  by  the  introduction  of  an  uncongenial 
pamphleteer  who  had  criticized  one  of  its  members 
adversely;  therefore  "it  ended,"  Goldoni  says,  "like 
the  Dominical 'e." 

Thus  in  dining  and  wining,  in  dalliance  and  agree- 
able converse,  he  passed  the  idle  moments  of  his  two 
years'  engagement  with  the  Comedie  Italienne,  his 
dutiful  wife  being  immured,  meanwhile,  like  the 


482  GOLDONI 

wife  of  one  of  his  inimitable  boors.  "She  amused 
herself  little  in  Paris,"  he  assured  Albergati,  "be- 
cause she  could  not  understand  or  make  herself  un- 
derstood"; whilst  he,  on  the  contrary,  "spoke  and  un- 
derstood either  well  or  badly  and  enjoyed  himself." 
In  truth  he  found  Paris  "a  fine  region  for  a  man  who 
liked  good  society,"  and  although  all  of  its  people 
were  not  sincere,  none  were  displeasing,  courtesy  be- 
ing, as  he  says,  "the  national  characteristic."  24 

When  in  the  spring  of  1764  his  engagement  with 
the  Comedie  Italienne  came  to  an  end,  the  moderate 
success  his  plays  had  enjoyed  made  the  Italian  actors 
loath  to  renew  their  contract  with  him,25  whilst  he 
was  unwilling  to  continue  his  humiliating  efforts  to 
please  the  French  public  with  scenari  instead  of  writ- 
ten comedies.  Moreover,  "six  thousand  francs  were 
not  enough  for  a  well-bred  man  to  live  upon  in 
Paris,"  he  complained,  and  he  could  not  endure  see- 
ing "incapable  actors  earn  fifteen  thousand,"  26  an 
unjust  disparity  that  still  obtains  between  the  play- 
wright's royalties  and  the  .actor's  salary,  for  without 
plays  that  please  the  million,  even  the  most  brilliant 
of  stars  will  bring  ruin  to  his  manager. 

Being  in  a  quandary,  Goldoni  thought  of  returning 
to  Venice,  whence  Vendramin  was  importuning  him 

24  Letter  to  Albergati-Capacelli,  Oct.  25,  1762. 

25  According  to  A.  G.  Spinelli,  Fogli  Sparsi,  on  March  9,  1764  Goldoni 
was  no  longer  playwright  of  the  Comedie  Italienne,  but  the  gentlemen 
of   the    King's    Chamber    retained    Goldoni    in    Paris.     He    continued    to 
write   occasionally   for    the    Comedie    Italienne   until    Easter,    1765.     See 
also  Goldoni's  letter  of  April  16,  1764,  in  Masi,  Letter e. 

26  Letter  to  Albergati-Capacelli,  Jan.   loth,  1764. 


EXPATRIATION  483 

for  comedies;  but  there  his  arch-enemy's  theatrical 
fables  were  still  the  vogue,  and  there  Baretti  was 
accusing  him  of  having  "debauched  the  minds  and 
hearts  of  his  countrymen."  "Good,  bad,  or  indiffer- 
ent though  I  may  be,"  he  complained  bitterly,27  "Ba- 
retti can  neither  add  anything  to  me  nor  subtract  any- 
thing from  me" ;  yet  he  did  not  subject  himself  to  the 
immediate  sting  of  this  critic's  literary  scourge. 
From  Lisbon,  Vienna  and  London  he  received  tempt- 
ing offers,  but  he  loved  Paris,  and  "Dame  Fortune," 
he  said,  "wished  him  to  be  there."  28 

"A  lucky  star  came  to  his  aid,"  he  declares,  "in  the 
person  of  Mademoiselle  Sylvestre,  reader  to  the 
Dauphiness,  Marie  Josephe  de  Saxe,  mother  of  Louis 
XVI."  That  lady,  the  daughter  of  a  Saxon  painter, 
received  from  her  compatriot  the  Dauphiness  "all 
the  credit  that  her  talents  and  demeanour  merited." 
Besides,  she  understood  Italian  and  had  read  Gol- 
doni's  comedies,  so  when  she  learned  of  his  reluctance 
to  leave  Paris,  she  suggested  his  name  to  her  royal 
mistress  as  an  aspirant  for  the  post  of  court  instructor 
in  Italian.  As  the  outcome  of  this  friendly  inter- 
cession, he  was  engaged  to  teach  the  fourth  born  of 
Louis  XV's  ten  legitimate  children,  Madame  Ade- 
laide, whose  deceased  sister,  Princess  Louise  Elisa- 
beth, or  Madame  L'Infante,  as  she  was  called,  had 
been  the  wife  of  his  patron,  the  Duke  of  Parma. 
When  he  presented  himself  at  the  door  of  the  Dauph- 

27  Letter  to  Albergati-Capacelli,  April  16,  1764. 

28  Letter  to  Albergati-Capacelli,  March  18,  1765. 


484  GOLDONI 

iness  in  the  palace  at  Versailles,  his  friend  Favart 29 
says  he  mistook  the  smiling  woman  who  greeted  him 
at  the  threshold  for  a  lady-in-waiting. 

"Welcome,  Monsieur  Goldoni,"  she  said;  "I  hear 
that  you  like  France." 

"Yes,  madame,"  he  answered. 

"Very  well,  then,  we  wish  you  to  remain,  since  it 
gives  you  pleasure.  Would  you  like  to  teach  Ma- 
dame Adelaide  Italian?" 

"Ah,  madame,"  he  exclaimed;  "it  is  too  ...  too 

"Follow  me,"  said  the  lady,  relieving  his  embar- 
rassment; "I  will  take  you  to  her,"  and  when  she  saw 
his  hesitation  she  said : 

"I  believe  you  don't  know  me." 

"No,  madame,"  he  answered,  "I  have  not  that  hon- 
our." 

"It 's  an  acquaintance  to  make,"  she  laughed,  "and 
I  hope  it  will  be  a  good  acquaintance  for  both  you 
and  me." 

Leading  him  to  Madame  Adelaide's  apartment, 
she  said  with  "bourgeois  familiarity": 

"Sister,  let  me  introduce  your  teacher" ;  whereupon 
the  amazed  dramatist  realized  for  the  first  time  that 
the  supposed  lady-in-waiting  was  the  Dauphiness  her- 
self. 

Madame  Adelaide  proved  equally  gracious. 

"Are  you  sure  you  wish  me  for  a  pupil  ?"  she  asked ; 

29  Letter  to  Count  Giacomo  Durazzo,  March  5,  1765. 


EXPATRIATION  485 

and  when  she  saw  he  was  too  embarrassed  to  do  more 
than  bow,  she  continued: 

"These  are  the  arrangements  I  propose.  Except 
on  fete  days  and  Sundays,  we  will  take  an  hour's 
lesson  every  day  in  the  morning.  No,  not  every  day, 
for  you  may  have  matters  to  attend  to  in  Paris.  I 
don't  wish  to  disturb  you;  therefore  we  will  work 
only  three  days  a  week;  but  without  bothering  you, 
for  if  you  have  something  important  on  hand  you  will 
be  at  liberty  to  tell  me.  But  you  mustn't  trouble 
yourself  about  anything.  We  will  get  lodgings  for 
you  here.  You  will  live  with  us,  for  we  are  simple 
folk." 

The  hapless  Dauphin,  who  died  within  the  year, 
strolled  into  the  room,  and,  treating  Goldoni  with 
equal  kindness,  showed  him  some  Italian  songs. 
Nothing  being  said  regarding  emoluments,  the  new 
tutor  retired  when  it  suited  the  royal  pleasure,  glory- 
ing in  so  honourable  an  employment,  and  "sure  of 
the  bounty  of  his  august  pupils";  "Providence,"  as  he 
wrote  his  friend  Cornet,30  "having  betokened  its  bless- 
ings, and  God  having  freed  him  from  the  actors," 
who,  as  he  remarks  in  his  memoirs,  "were  perhaps  not 
vexed  at  getting  rid  of  him." 

His  post,  however,  was  not  the  sinecure  Favart's 
account  of  his  audience  with  the  royal  family  would 
indicate,  for  instead  of  giving  Madame  Adelaide  an 
hour's  lesson  three  times  a  week,  in  a  letter  to  Al- 

30  Feb.  24,  1765. 


486  GOLDONI 

bergati,31  written  soon  after  he  began  his  new  duties, 
Goldoni  says  that  he  taught  her  five  times  a  week, 
the  lessons  lasting  from  two  and  a  half  to  three  hours, 
with  the  time  divided  into  four  equal  parts,  devoted 
respectively  to  reading  Muratori's  annals,  to  a  philo- 
logical discussion  of  the  Italian  and  French  lan- 
guages, to  the  reading  and  translation  of  the  tutor's 
own  comedies,  and  to  speaking,  writing,  and  arguing 
in  Italian.  A  rigorous  morning's  work  it  Would 
seem;  yet  his  royal  pupil  was  no  pampered  princess, 
Mesdames  de  France,  despite  their  father's  moral 
laxity,  having  been  strenuously  reared. 

Lodgings  in  the  Chateau  de  Versailles  were  as- 
signed Goldoni 32  within  a  few  weeks  after  his  duties 
as  royal  tutor  began.  Meanwhile  Madame  Ade- 
laide sent  a  post-chaise  every  day  to  fetch  him  from 
Paris,  and  on  one  of  these  journeys,  while  reading 
Rousseau's  Lettres  de  la  montagne,  he  suddenly  lost 
the  use  of  his  eyes.  The  book  fell  from  his  hand, 
he  says,  and  he  could  not  see  sufficiently  to  pick  it 
up.  He  could  distinguish  light,  however,  and  when 
he  reached  the  chateau,  managed  to  grope  his  way 
to  Madame  Adelaide's  apartment  and  take  his  ac- 
customed seat  on  a  footstool.  The  princess  noted  his 
agitation,  but  he  was  too  proud  to  confess  the  cause. 
Believing  he  could  fulfil  his  duties,  he  opened  the 
book  they  had  been  reading  on  the  previous  day,  but 

31  March  18,   1765. 

32  In   a   letter  to  Albergati-Capacelli,   May  3,   1765,  he  says  that  his 
apartment  in  the  Chateau  was  situated  au  second  escalier  attenant  a  La 
Galerie  des  Princes  au  fond  du  corridor  N.  107. 


EXPATRIATION  487 

he  could  not  see  the  print  and  was  obliged  to  ac- 
knowledge his  disability.  "It  is  impossible/'  he 
says,  "to  depict  the  kindness,  the  tenderness,  the  com- 
passion of  that  great  princess,"  for  it  was  not  the 
salutary  eye-washes  she  brought  him  with  her  own 
hand  or  the  attentions  of  her  physician  that  made 
him  recover  his  sight,  but  her  "kindness."  His  re- 
covery was  not  complete,  however,  since  he  lost  en- 
tirely the  use  of  his  left  eye. 

Although  the  blindness  of  an  eye  was  to  his  com- 
placent mind  "but  a  trifling  inconvenience,"  at  night 
he  was  obliged  to  have  a  light  beside  him,  a  vexation 
when  playing  cards,  for  when  he  moved  his  seat  he 
was  forced  to  carry  a  candle,  much  to  the  annoyance 
of  the  ladies  with  whom  he  gamed.  He  was  a 
crafty  player,  however,  and  one  night  at  Versailles 
he  waited  until  Louis  XV,  who  had  the  reputation 
of  being  lucky,  held  the  bank  at  lansquenet;  then 
risked  upon  it  successfully  six  louis  of  his  moderate 
means.  He  was  a  discreet  player,  too,  at  least  in 
his  old  age,  one  who  "preferred  winning  six  francs 
to  losing  them";  but  like  his  associates  at  court,  he 
played  habitually,  since  he  could  not  pass  an  evening, 
he  confesses,  "without  doing  anything,  and  after  the 
news  of  the  day  had  been  told,  and  one's  neighbours, 
and  even  one's  friends,  had  been  criticized,  to  game 
was  absolutely  necessary." 

His  post  in  the  household  of  Madame  Adelaide, 
or  Madame  Troisieme,  as  she  was  jokingly  styled 
until  the  successive  deaths  of  her  twin  elder  sisters 


488  GOLDONI 

gave  her  the  quality  of  first-born,33  brought  Goldoni 
into  intimate  contact  with  court  life.  Although  his 
royal  pupil  told  him  that  she  and  her  family  were 
simple  folk,  she  was  nevertheless  jealous  of  her  rank 
and  a  stickler  in  matters  of  etiquette.  Moreover, 
when  her  nephew  married  Marie  Antoinette  and 
mounted  the  throne,  she  became  the  most  meddle- 
some of  Mesdames  tantes,  as  Louis  XV's  surviving 
daughters  were  then  called.34  She  showed  none  but 
her  good  qualities  to  Goldoni,  however,  or  else  he 
was  a  more  accomplished  courtier  than  he  is  willing 
to  acknowledge,  he  being  ever  warm  in  his  praise  of 
her.  Though  she  neglected  for  a  considerable  time 
to  recompense  his  services  in  the  bountiful  way  he 
had  expected,  she  was  gracious  enough  to  chat  with 
his  wife  for  half  an  hour  on  a  certain  occasion,35  and 
she  permitted  that  worthy  helpmate  to  accompany 
her  lord  during  the  summer  of  1765  when  the  King 
and  court  went  en  villeglature  to  Marly  and  Com- 
piegne. 

While  at  the  latter  place,  Goldoni  received  news 
of  the  death  of  his  benefactor,  the  Spanish  Infant, 
Don  Philip,  Duke  of  Parma,  and  mourned  his  loss 
so  deeply  that  the  melancholia  of  his  younger  days 
began  to  affect  him  once  more.  But  his  spirits  were 
soon  brightened  by  the  renewal  of  the  Parmesan 
pension  he  had  enjoyed  for  nine  years,  his  friend 
Count  d'Argental,  the  Parmesan  plenipotentiary, 

33  Louise-Marie,  the  third  child  of  Louis  XV,  died  in  infancy. 

34  Casirair  Stryienski :    Mesdames  de  France. 

35  Letter  to  Gabriel  Cornet,  May  13,  1765. 


EXPATRIATION  489 

being  the  kind  functionary  who  brought  this  lucky 
event  to  pass.  With  his  grief  thus  substantially  as- 
suaged, he  was  able  to  take  a  pleasure  trip  to  Chan- 
tilly  before  returning  to  his  duties  at  Versailles. 

While  following  Louis  XV  and  his  court  on  the 
grands  or  petits  voyages,  or  while  fulfilling  his  peda- 
gogic duties  in  the  palace  at  Versailles,  he  was  able 
to  view  court  life  familiarly  and  enjoy  occasions  of 
intimacy  with  the  royal  family,  such  as  he  thus  de- 
scribes : 

I  wrote  an  Italian  cantata  which  I  had  set  to  music  by  an 
Italian  composer,  and  I  presented  it  to  the  Dauphiness,  who,  in 
accepting  it,  graciously  commanded  me  to  come  to  hear  it  played 
in  her  rooms  after  supper.  On  this  occasion  I  learned  a  point  of 
etiquette  of  which  until  then  I  had  been  ignorant.  I  entered  the 
royal  apartment  at  10  o'clock  in  the  evening  and  presented  myself 
at  the  door  of  the  cabinet  des  nobles.  The  usher  did  not  prevent 
me  from  entering:  Monseigneur  le  Dauphin  and  Madame  la 
Dauphine  being  at  table,  I  stepped  aside  to  watch  them  sup.  A 
lady-in-waiting  came  toward  me  and  asked  if  I  had  the  entree  in 
the  evening.  "I  do  not  know,  madame,"  I  answered,  "the  dif- 
ference between  the  entree  in  the  daytime  and  the  entree  in  the 
evening.  The  Princess  herself  commanded  me  to  come  to  her 
room  after  supper.  I  came  too  soon  perhaps,  but  I  did  not  know 
the  etiquette."  "Monsieur,"  answered  the  lady,  "there  is  none 
for  you;  you  may  remain."  I  own  that  my  self-esteem  was  not 
a  little  gratified  on  this  occasion. 

I  remained,  and  when  the  Prince  and  Princess  retired  to  their 
apartments,  I  was  summoned  and  my  cantata  performed.  The 
Dauphiness  played  the  harpsichord ;  Madame  Adelaide  accompanied 
her  on  the  violin,  and  Mademoiselle  Hardy  (afterwards  Madame 
de  la  Brusse)  sang.  The  music  gave  pleasure  and  compliments 
were  paid  the  author  of  the  words,  which  I  accepted  modestly. 
I  wished  to  take  my  leave,  but  Monsieur  le  Dauphin  had  the  good- 
ness to  detain  me.  He  sang  and  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  hear 


490 


GOLDONI 


him;  but  what  did  he  sing? — a  pathetic  oratorio  called  The  Pil- 
grim at  the  Sepulchre. 

Like  the  great  Frenchman  to  whom  he  has  been 
injudiciously  compared,  Goldoni  filled  a  minor  post 
at  court,  content,  ay,  even  proud  to  be  in  the  royal 
service.  But  Moliere  became  a  courtier  to  further 
his  art  and  outwit  his  enemies,  and  the  Italian  to 
keep  the  wolf  from  his  door;  therefore  the  fawning 
of  these  geniuses  of  comedy  is  certainly  more  venial 
than  venal. 

Goldoni,  however,  confessed  himself  a  poor  syco- 
phant. "If  I  did  not  profit  by  the  royal  favour," 
he  avers,  "it  was  my  own  fault,  for  I  did  not  know 
how  to  beg.  I  was  at  court,  yet  I  was  not  a  courtier." 
But  he  was  not  entirely  devoid  of  parasitical  quali- 
ties, since  he  acknowledges  that  when  he  found  him- 
self one  day  in  the  presence  of  the  Dauphin,  the 
Dauphiness,  and  Mesdames  de  France,  he  seized 
the  opportunity  "to  present  and  recommend  his 
nephew." 36  Moreover,  when  offered  an  engage- 
ment in  London  (1770),  he  again  belied  his  declara- 
tion that  he  was  not  a  courtier,  for  although  he  was 
anxious  to  see  a  city  "that  alone  could  dispute  the 
supremacy  with  Paris,"  the  time  of  the  royal  mar- 
riages was  approaching  and  he  wished  to  be  present 
at  these  festivities.  "Furthermore  it  was  not  the 
/  King  of  England  who  invited  me,"  he  exclaims, 
/;  "but  the  managers  of  the  opera,  who  wished  to  at- 
;<i  tach  me  to  their  enterprise." 

36  Letter  to   Gabriel   Cornet,  May  13,  1765. 


THE  DANCING  LESSON 


Gallcric    dell'Accadania 


EXPATRIATION  491 

When  he  accepted  the  post  of  tutor  to  Madame 
Adelaide  and  her  sisters,  he  relied  on  their  bounty 
for  his  livelihood;  a  misplaced  confidence,  it  would 
appear,  since  he  declares  that  during  the  first  year 
of  his  tutorship  he  received  but  a  hundred  louis  from 
the  royal  treasury.  But  a  greater  misfortune 
assailed  him.  His  protector  the  Dauphin  died 
(Dec.  20,  1765)  and  was  soon  followed  to  the  grave 
by  his  fond  wife,  while  the  King  lost  his  father-in- 
law.  Owing  to  the  period  of  court  mourning  that 
ensued,  Madame  Adelaide  discontinued  her  Italian 
lessons,  and  one  fine  morning  the  key  of  Goldoni's 
apartment  in  the  palace  was  demanded,  he  and  his 
family  being  ejected  "to  make  room,"  as  he  expresses 
it,  "for  some  better  man." 

Though  he  saw  his  august  friends  from  time  to 
time  and  was  treated  with  kindness  by  them,  Goldoni 
did  not  know  how  to  make  them  aware  of  his  con- 
dition, he  declares;  while  they  were  too  overcome 
with  grief  to  think  of  him.  To  be  near  the  court, 
though  no  longer  of  it,  he  rented  lodgings  in  Ver- 
sailles. "Fortune  has  made  game  of  me," 37  he 
sighed,  and  as  his  royalties  from  the  plays  he  had 
sent  Vendramin  materialized  slowly,  he  was  obliged 
to  borrow  a  hundred  sequins  from  the  Abate  Sciugli- 
aga,  the  Dalmatian  friend  who  had  once  defended 
him  against  the  attacks  of  the  Chiaristas.  Within 
the  year,  however,  he  was  able  to  inform  Albergati 38 
that  Madame  Adelaide  had  assured  him  of  her  pro- 

37  Letter  of  Oct.  8,  1765.  38  Letter  of  May  26,  1766. 


492  GOLDONI 

tection  and  had  presented  him  with  a  gold  snuff-box 
worth  sixty  louis,  as  well  as  a  hundred  louis  in 
cash.  Seconded  by  Mesdames  Victoire  and  Sophie, 
her  sisters,  Madame  Adelaide  demanded  for  him  the 
title  and  emoluments  of  Instituteur  d* I  tali  en  des 
Enfans  de  France,  and  when  the  ministry  objected 
to  creating  a  new  post  to  drain  further  an  impover- 
ished treasury,  she  insisted  that  she  was  merely  ask- 
ing a  just  recompense  for  services  already  rendered. 
By  demanding  a  pension  of  six  thousand  livres  a 
year  for  her  protege,  she  managed  to  obtain  four 
thousand,  from  which  sum  four  hundred  livres  were 
deducted  annually  for  the  tax  called  the  vingtieme.39 
Regarding  this  royal  benefaction,  Goldoni  says: 

My  income  was  not  very  large;  yet  I  must  be  just.  What  had 
I  done  to  merit  it?  I  had  left  Italy  for  France.  The  Comedie 
Italienne  did  not  suit  me,  and  I  had  only  to  return  home.  I 
became  attached,  however,  to  the  French  people.  Three  years  of 
an  easy,  honourable,  and  agreeable  service  procured  for  me  the 
pleasure  of  remaining  among  them.  Should  I  not  consider  my- 
self fortunate?  Should  I  not  be  contented? 

After  obtaining  a  pension  for  their  genial  tutor, 
Mesdames  de  France  employed  in  other  studies  the 
hours  they  had  devoted  to  Italian.  They  had  told 
him  that  he  would  have  their  three  nephews  as 
scholars;  yet  the  only  one  of  these  princes  willing 
to  study  Italian  was  tutored  by  a  Frenchman,  hence 

39  Bachauraont,  writing  in  his  journal  under  the  date  Jan.  12,  1769, 
says,  "The  King  has  just  given  a  pension  of  four  thousand  livres  to 
the  Sieur  Goldoni,  called  to  France  by  the  Italian  actors  several  years 
ago  to  uphold  their  theatre,  and  since  appointed  to  teach  Mesdames  the 
language  in  which  he  has  given  very  interesting  plays." 


EXPATRIATION  493 

Goldoni  was  left  without  employment.  To  be 
nearer  "the  theatres  that  glitter  only  in  Paris"  he 
removed  his  lodgings  thither,  although  he  kept  a 
pied  a  terre  at  Versailles,  because  "it  was  to  his  in- 
terest to  pay  court  to  his  august  protectresses  and 
see  if  the  Italian  literature  and  language  might  not 
gain  partisans  among  the  young  princes  and  prin- 


cesses." 


After  obtaining  a  comfortable  pension  with  which 
to  temper  the  needs  of  his  declining  years,  he  be- 
stirred himself  on  behalf  of  his  nephew,  "a  kind  and 
docile  young  man,"  as  he  says,  "fit  for  some  good 
employment."  Madame  Adelaide  interceded  with 
the  Due  de  Choiseul  in  the  younger  Goldoni's  be- 
half, and  secured  for  him  a  tutorship  in  Italian  at 
the  Royal  Military  School.  But  Antonio  Francesco 
no  sooner  received  this  appointment  than  his  post 
was  promptly  abolished;  whereupon  his  uncle  ob- 
tained his  nomination  as  interpreter  in  the  Corsican 
Bureau.  When  this  position  was  likewise  suppressed, 
he  received  a  similar  appointment  in  the  War  Office, 
where  he  was  "lucky  enough  to  please  his  superiors 
and  receive  from  them  various  tokens  of  their  kind- 
ness." "If  my  journey  to  France  had  been  produc- 
tive of  nothing  else  than  the  establishing  of  this  dear 
child,"  the  uncle  exclaims,  "I  should  always  extol 
myself  for  having  undertaken  it."  Although  child- 
less, Goldoni  loved  his  nephew  as  a  son ;  the  young 
man  was  of  mediocre  talent,  he  confesses,  and  he 
thought  at  one  time  of  sending  him  to  Canada. 


494  GOLDONI 

Moreover,  despite  his  long  residence  in  France, 
Antonio  Francesco  was  unable  to  write  the  French 
language  correctly,40  and  had  but  a  rudimentary  edu- 
cation in  his  own;  therefore  his  fond  uncle  had 
reason  to  rejoice  at  having  secured  for  him  a  govern- 
mental sinecure. 

"Though  at  court,  I  was  not  a  courtier,"  is  the  re- 
frain Goldoni  repeats  in  his  memoirs;  yet  he  feath- 
ered his  family  nest  with  preferment,  and  delighted 
in  the  society  of  "dukes,  duchesses,  cordons  bleus, 
and  marshals." 41  Even  his  pen  was  plied  obse- 
quiously. Though  teeming  with  accounts  of  royal 
weddings  and  court  festivities,  his  memoirs  contain 
not  a  word  regarding  the  appalling  condition  of  the 
French  people,  or  the  mighty  tempest  that  was  gath- 
ering to  engulf  a  rotten  monarchy.  Surely  none  but 
an  ardent  courtier  could  pronounce  so  notorious  a 
debauchee  as  Louis  XV  "the  most  clement  of  kings, 
the  most  tender  of  fathers,  and  the  most  gentle  of 
masters"  I  Yet  Goldoni  enjoyed  royal  beneficence  at 
a  time  when  he  sorely  needed  it.  Moreover,  the 
reigning  family  of  France,  headed  by  ill-starred 
Louis  XVI,  subscribed  for  a  hundred  and  forty- 
seven  copies  of  his  memoirs;  hence  it  is  but  natural 
to  find  their  pages  as  obsequious  to  kingship  as  the 
comedies  of  Moliere,  another  recipient  of  royal 
bounty. 

Like  those  of  his  great  predecessor  in  his  craft, 

40  E.   Maddalena:  Letter e   inedite   del    Goldoni,   and   A.   G.   Spinelli: 
Fogli  Sparsi  del  Goldoni. 

41  Letter  to  Albergati-Capacelli,  April  2,  1765. 


EXPATRIATION  495 

Goldoni's  plays  were  sometimes  acted  before  the 
court,  and  long  after  his  engagement  with  the 
Comedie  Italienne  had  come  to  a  hapless  end,  he  was 
inspired  by  "the  general  spirit  of  gladness  and  en- 
thusiasm" that  reigned  at  the  time  of  the  Dauphin's 
wedding  to  Marie  Antoinette  (1770)  to  write  in  the 
language  of  his  adopted  country  The  Beneficent 
Bear  (Le  Bourru  bienfaisant),  the  only  masterpiece 
that  graced  the  years  he  passed  in  France.  H,is 
courtiery,  therefore,  was  not  barren  of  good,  even 
though  it  belied  his  frank  nature.  Perhaps,  as 
Giulio  Caprin  declares,42  he  was  the  "most  sincere 
and  modest  of  courtiers" ;  yet  a  courtier  he  remained 
so  long  as  he  had  the  strength  to  hobble  in  the  King's 
wake,  his  heart  ever  beating  in  the  royal  presence 
with  as  much  "pleasure  and  subjection"  as  that  of 
good  Nicoletta  when  Madame  Adelaide  deigned  to 
speak  with  her. 

Indeed  it  is  idle  for  him  to  exclaim  that  pride 
played  no  part  in  his  life  43  when  it  peeps  from  the 
pages  of  his  memoirs  many  a  time.  It  is  idle,  too, 
for  him  to  declare  that  he  did  not  know  how  to  beg, 
since  he  possessed  a  marked  faculty  for  getting  august 
people  to  solicit  favours  for  him,  and  on  more  than 
one  occasion  deliberately  begged  himself.  In  1775, 
for  instance,  when  Louis  the  young  Dauphin  had 
succeeded  his  profligate  grandfather  as  King  of 
France,  Goldoni,  on  being  summoned  to  court  to 
teach  Italian  to  Princess  Clotilde,  the  new  monarch's 

42  Op.  cit.  43  Letter   to   Gabriel   Cornet,   May   13,   1765. 


496  GOLDONI 

sister,  was  quick  to  point  out  that  his  pension, 
having  been  granted  for  services  to  Mesdames  de 
France,  did  not  requite  him  for  the  instruction  of 
the  entire  family.  He  taught  this  royal  pupil  in  a 
manner  as  unhampered  by  confusing  syntax  as  the 
Berlitz  method  of  to-day;  yet  in  the  bustle  caused  by 
her  wedding  his  demands  were  disregarded,  and  he 
was  obliged  to  bide  a  more  favourable  moment  for 
their  pressing. 

He  felt  the  pinch  of  poverty  so  keenly,  meanwhile, 
that  he  borrowed  twenty-five  louis  from  Vittore 
Gradenigo,  secretary  of  the  Venetian  embassy,44  and 
double  that  sum  from  Marco  Zeno,  the  ambassador 
who  had  succeeded  Giovanni  Mocenigo.  Some 
three  months  later,  because  the  King's  sisters,  "in- 
stead of  making  his  fortune,  had  wrought  his  ruin" 
by  holding  out  false  hopes,  he  confessed  his  inability 
to  repay  these  loans.  Indeed  he  was  in  such  straits 
at  this  time  that  he  begged  permission  to  return  to 
Italy,  where  his  meagre  pension  would  better  sup- 
port his  state,  while,  to  repay  his  debts,  he  offered  to 
sell  Gradenigo  his  library,  which  included  an  edition 
of  two  hundred  and  fifty  volumes  of  French  plays 
given  him  by  Voltaire.45 

Fortune  soon  smiled  on  him,  however,  when, 
abetted  by  Princess  Elisabeth,  another  of  the  King's 
sisters  to  whom  he  gave  Italian  lessons,  and  by  the 
Queen  and  Mesdames  tantes  as  well,  he  presented 

44  Letter  to  Vittore  Gradenigo,  Feb.  19,  1780. 

45  Letter  to  Vittore  Gradenigo,  May  5,  1780. 


EXPATRIATION  497 

Louis  XVI  a  bill  for  his  services,  and  obtained  a 
royal  gratuity  of  six  thousand  livres  with  which  to 
pay  his  debts.  Declaring  that  the  harsh  winds  of 
Versailles  distressed  his  nerves  and  revived  his 
vapours,  he  obtained  from  the  clement  monarch  the 
reversion  of  his  tutorship  in  favour  of  his  nephew, 
to  whom  an  annual  grant  of  twelve  hundred  livres 
was  made,  his  own  pension  of  four  thousand  livres, 
less  the  accustomed  vingtieme,  being  awarded  him 
for  life. 

In  declaring  that  he  did  not  know  how  to  ask 
favours,  he  certainly  controverts  the  truth;  yet  in 
justice  to  his  candid  character,  these  words  of  Giulio 
Caprin 46  may  be  pertinently  quoted: 

His  honest  heart,  ever  ready  for  good  impulse,  even  after  so 
many  hard  trials,  beat  only  with  a  gratitude  which  became  intense 
emotion  when  the  royal  favour  was  shown  in  its  most  visible  ways. 

After  stationing  his  nephew  well  in  life  and  ob- 
taining his  own  release  from  courtly  duties  and  finan- 
cial troubles,  Goldoni  retired  from  windy  Versailles 
to  Paris,  where  "the  less  strenuous  air  was  more  like 
his  temperament."  When  he  laid  aside  his  three- 
cornered  hat  and  buckled  shoes  to  enjoy  by  his  own 
fireside  the  comfort  of  Pantalone's  skull-cap  and 
slippers,  he  was  in  his  seventy-third  year  and  his  life- 
work  was  ended.  Prowling  about  the  streets  of 
Paris,  or  enjoying  the  society  of  his  numerous  French 
friends,  he  was  to  pass  many  a  tranquil  day  before 

4*  Op.   cit. 


498  GOLDONI 

revolutionary  terror  came  to  reign  in  France,  and 
death  to  free  his  own  kindly  soul. 

During  the  seventeen  years  he  had  lived  in  a  for- 
eign land  he  had  penned  a  goodly  number  of  com- 
edies, operas  bouffes,  and  scenari  for  the  Comedie 
Italienne,  as  well  as  for  the  theatres  of  Venice,  Lis- 
bon, and  London.  While  the  plays  he  wrote  in 
France  are  being  examined  and  his  talents  compared 
with  those  of  Moliere,  he  shall  be  left  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  first  hours  of  true  leisure  he  had  known 
since  Thalia  first  apprenticed  him  to  her  exacting 
art.  He  loved  the  gay  city  in  which  the  lot  of  his 
declining  years  was  cast,  yet  he  had  not  forgotten 
the  carnival  din  of  his  cherished  birthplace,  or  the 
merry  song  of  her  gondoliers.  In  the  land  of  his 
expatriation  he  could  still  exclaim : 

From  Venice  I  'm  two  thousand  miles  away ; 
Yet  to  my  mind  are  summoned  every  day 
Her  speech,  the  merry  habits  of  her  folk, 
And  her  sweet  name,  fond  memories  to  evoke. 


XV 

DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE 

WHEN  he  arrived  in  Paris,  to  fulfil  his  en- 
gagement with  Les  Comediens  du  roi  de  la 
troupe  italienne,  Goldoni  found  the  actors 
who  had  enticed  him  thither  in  sore  need  of  comedies 
that  would  renew  the  lustre  of  their  dimming  fame. 
Since  the  reign  of  Henri  III,  when  the  Gelosi  were 
summoned  to  Paris  by  le  rot  des  mignons,  Italian 
players  had  trodden  the  boards  of  the  capital,  first  as 
transient  tenants  of  the  Hotel  du  Petit  Bourbon,  the 
playhouse  where  in  1658  Moliere  made  his  successful 
bow  to  the  general  public  of  his  native  city;  and  then 
as  permanent  occupants  of  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne, 
oldest  of  French  theatres.  In  the  heyday  of  their 
success  many  famous  players  had  been  enrolled  in 
their  ranks.  Tiberio  Fiorelli,  the  Scaramouche,  who 
was  Moliere's  reputed  teacher  in  the  art  of  mimicry; 
Domenico  Locatelli,  Francesco  and  Luisa  Gabrielli, 
and  Angelo  Costantino,  called  Mezzettino,  had  each 
in  turn  added  brilliance  to  the  Comedie  Italienne. 

After  the  union,  in  1680,  of  the  players  of  the 
Hotel  de  Bourgogne  and  those  of  the  Theatre 
Guenegaud — the  remnants  of  Moliere's  company — 
to  form  the  Comedie  Frangaise,  the  Italians  played 

499 


500  GOLDONI 

at  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne  until  their  temerity  in 
placing  upon  their  stage  a  satire  upon  Madame  de 
Maintenon  caused  the  doors  of  their  playhouse  to 
be  sealed  in  1697  by  royal  order.  Soon  after  reopen- 
ing the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne  in  1716,  by  consent  of 
the  Regent,  they  obtained  the  title  of  comediens 
italiens  ordinaire*  du  Roi  and  an  annual  subsidy  of 
15,000  livres;  yet  they  sought  in  vain  to  regain  the 
popularity  they  had  once  enjoyed.  By  substituting 
written  comedies,  and  even  tragedies,  for  the  farces 
of  the  Improvised  Comedy,  Luigi  Riccoboni, 
known  as  Lelio,  a  man  of  letters  as  well  as  an  actor 
of  ability,  tried  to  elevate  the  character  of  the  plays 
performed  at  the  Comedie  Italienne,  a  task  in  which 
he  was  ably  seconded  by  the  talents  of  Rosa  Giovanna 
Balletti-Benozzi,  known  on  the  stage  as  Sylvia.  But 
the  public  of  Paris,  unacquainted  with  the  Italian 
language,  would  not  tolerate  this  innovation;  hence 
the  Italian  actors  were  forced  to  resort  to  scenari 
Frenchified  to  suit  the  Parisian  taste. 

In  vain  did  Arlecchino  and  Brighella  extemporize 
their  lazzi,  while  Lelio  and  Sylvia  drew  love  phrases 
from  the  zibaldone.  Satiated  with  Italian  buffoon- 
ery, the  Parisian  public  gave  its  patronage  to  French 
comedy  and  opera  boufTe,  or  to  the  parades  and 
farces  of  the  theatres  forains.  Finding  themselves 
in  these  sore  straits,  the  Italians  produced  French 
comedies  by  Regnard,  Le  Sage,  Marivaux,  and  lesser 
lights,  and  even  imported  American  red  men  to 
dance  in  war-paint  and  feathers  upon  their  cosmo- 


DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE     501 

politan  stage.  When  these  attractions  failed  to 
draw,  they  placed  new  Corinthian  columns  in  the 
Hotel  de  Bourgogne  and  repainted  the  boxes,  and, 
as  a  last  resort,  invited  to  Paris  their  Venetian  com- 
patriot, Goldoni,  whose  scenario,  entitled  Harlequin's 
Son  Lost  and  Found  (II  Figlio  d'Arlecchino  perduto 
e  ritrovato)  had  four  years  previously  (1758)  been 
presented  with  considerable  success  upon  their  stage. 

At  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne  Goldoni  found  a  com- 
pany skilled  in  improvisation,  but  inexperienced  in 
performing  written  comedy.  It  was  a  profit-sharing 
company,  moreover,  and  therefore  ill  disciplined,  for 
it  had  no  manager,  and  the  royal  Intendant  des  menus 
plalslrs  gave  it  only  perfunctory  supervision.  Col- 
lalto,  the  pantaloon,  an  actor  formerly  in  Medebac's 
troupe,  for  whom  he  had  written  The  Merchants 
many  years  before,  was,  as  Goldoni  avers,  "one  of 
the  best  actors  in  Italy";  yet  neither  he  nor  Carlo 
Bertinazzi,  the  harlequin  affectionately  known  as 
Carlino,  could  deliver  written  lines  effectively.  The 
voice  of  beautiful  Camilla  Veronese,  the  servetta, 
was  "the  cry  of  nature" ;  Zanuzzi,  the  primo  amoroso, 
was  "well  considered  in  Italy" ;  yet  they,  as  well  as 
their  inferior  comrades,  such  as  Madame  Savi,  the 
leading  lady,  who  was  "without  talent,"  were 
schooled  only  in  the  ancient  art  of  extemporizing. 

Although  Zanuzzi  and  Madame  Savi  went  to 
Villejuif  to  meet  him;  although  in  Paris  he  was 
wined  and  dined  by  the  actors  he  had  come  to  serve, 
Goldoni,  the  astute  craftsman,  saw  quickly  that  the 


502  GOLDONI 

dramatic  path  he  had  come  to  tread  was  strewn  with 
thorns  instead  of  flowers.  The  Opera  Comique  had 
recently  been  closed  and  its  repertory  added  to  the 
Comedie  Italienne,  and,  rinding  the  theatre  rilled  on 
the  opera  nights  and  empty  when  Italian  comedies 
were  given,  he  attributed  this  disparity  to  the  fact 
that  his  compatriots  "gave  only  time-worn  pieces" 
of  the  sort  "he  had  reformed  in  Italy."  Resolving 
to  present  only  "characters,  progress,  deportment, 
style,"  he  met  with  the  opposition  of  the  mask  actors, 
who  "wishing  to  shine  without  taking  the  trouble  to 
study,"  demanded  scenari  in  the  familiar  style  of  the 
Improvised  Comedy. 

Loath  to  turn  backward  in  his  art,  the  new-comer 
asked  four  months'  time  in  which  to  study  Parisian 
conditions,  and  during  this  respite  from  labour  he 
frequented  the  playhouses  of  Paris,  trying  meanwhile 
to  learn  the  dramatic  taste  of  the  public.  When  the 
time  for  his  Parisian  debut  arrived,  he  found  the 
Italian  players  only  partially  in  accord  with  his 
ideals,  the  mask  actors  being  still  persistent  in  their 
wish  to  extemporize  their  lines.  At  a  meeting  of 
the  company  he  was  able  to  carry  the  day  by  show- 
ing "the  indecorum  of  introducing  an  author  without 
dialogue."  Although  pleased  with  this  triumph,  he 
foresaw  the  difficulty  of  writing  for  actors  unskilled 
in  committing  their  lines  to  memory;  therefore  he 
resolved  to  lead  them  gradually  toward  the  reforms 
he  had  accomplished  in  Italy.  With  this  end  in 
view  he  composed  a  comedy,  calling,  as  he  says,  "for 


DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE     503 

slight  precision  in  execution,"  entitled  Paternal 
Love  (UAmore  paterno),  a  play  which  failed  so 
lamentably  that  it  was  withdrawn  after  the  fourth 
performance.  Favart,  however,  saw  even  in  its 
least  important  scenes  "qualities  that  revealed  the 
Moliere  of  Italy,"  and  stood  ready  "to  uphold  the 
reputation  of  our  Venetian  lawyer,"  whom  he  re- 
garded "as  the  advocate  of  Thalia  and  good  taste." 
Grimm,  on  the  contrary,  thought  it  "a  monstrous 
mixture  of  pathos  and  buffoonery,"  a  verdict  more 
in  accord  with  that  of  both  the  public  of  its  day  and 
of  posterity. 

Paternal  Love  is  a  stereotyped,  though  nimble, 
comedy,  with  virtuous  characters — virtue  being  then 
the  fashion,  at  least  upon  the  stage — and  it  contains 
complimentary  references  to  Goldoni's  French  pub- 
lic. In  the  dramatic  path  of  this  middle-aged  for- 
eigner there  were,  however,  two  insurmountable 
obstacles:  to  wit,  the  incompetence  in  written  com- 
edy of  actors  trained  in  the  school  of  improvisation, 
and  the  inability  of  the  public,  particularly  of  its 
feminine  portion,  to  understand  Italian.  The  women 
would  not  attend  the  Comedie  Italienne,  and,  as  Gol- 
doni  sententiously  remarks,  "when  a  theatre  lacks 
women,  the  men  are  scarce  also."  1  Therefore  the 
actors  began  to  demand  scenari  of  their  dramatist, 
in  which  Arlecchino  and  Scappino  might  extem- 
porize their  lines  in  French  as  was  their  wont.2 
Goldoni's  own  words  shall  tell  of  his  discomfiture: 

1  Letter  to  Albergati-Capacelli,   April   18,   1763. 

2  Letter   to   Agostino   Paradisi,   March   28,    1763. 


504  GOLDONI 

I  wished  to  depart  immediately,  yet  how  could  I  leave  Paris 
which  had  enthralled  me?  I  had  an  engagement  for  two  years; 
I  was  tempted  to  remain.  The  majority  of  the  Italian  comedians 
demanded  only  scenari,  the  public  was  accustomed  to  them;  the 
court  suffered  them ;  why  should  I  have  refused  to  conform  ?  Come, 
I  said,  let  us  construct  scenari  if  they  wish  them.  Any  sacrifice 
seemed  sweet,  any  trouble  endurable  for  the  pleasure  of  remaining 
two  years  in  Paris.  It  cannot  be  said,  however,  that  I  permitted 
amusements  to  interfere  with  the  fulfilment  of  my  duty;  I  gave 
during  the  period  of  those  two  years  twenty-four  [sic]  plays,  the 
titles  and  the  success  or  failure  of  which  may  be  found  in  U Al- 
manack des  spectacles.  Eight  of  these  plays  remain  upon  the  stage, 
and  they  have  cost  me  more  trouble  than  if  I  had  written  them 
out  in  entirety.  I  could  only  please  by  means  of  interesting  situ- 
ations, full  of  humours  artfully  prepared  and  safe  from  the  actors' 
whims.  I  succeeded  better  than  I  imagined;  yet,  whatever  the 
success  of  my  plays,  I  seldom  went  to  see  them.  I  liked  good 
comedy  and  I  went  to  the  Theatre  Frangais  to  be  amused  and  to 
be  instructed. 

For  thirty  years  he  had  striven  to  reform  the  taste 
of  the  Italian  public  by  leading  it  away  from  vulgar 
humour  "artfully  prepared"  toward  "progress,  de- 
portment, and  style" ;  vainly  had  he  represented  man- 
kind by  characters  true  to  nature;  Carlo  Gozzi  with 
his  fantastic  fairy-tales  had  driven  him  into  exile, 
and  now  he  was  forced  by  the  Parisian  public  to 
write  the  very  sort  of  play  he  had  sought  to  banish 
from  the  stage  of  his  native  land.  Beginning  again 
in  France  at  the  age  of  fifty-five  the  reform  he  had 
striven  so  resolutely  to  accomplish  in  his  native  land, 
he  fought  without  the  ardour  of  youth,  and  therefore 
submitted  more  readily  to  the  exigencies  of  the  stage. 
Being  written  solely  to  obtain  a  livelihood,  it  is  not 


DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE     505 

surprising  that  in  the  plays  and  scenari  he  wrought 
for  the  Italian  comedians  during  the  two  years  of  his 
engagement  with  them  his  genius  as  a  painter  of 
nature  is  seldom  manifest.  He  was  amazingly  pro- 
lific, however,  during  his  first  years  in  France,  and 
in  addition  to  the  plays  and  scenari  he  wrote  for 
the  Comedie  Italienne  and  the  San  Luca  theatre,  he 
penned  a  goodly  number  of  libretti  for  the  lyrical 
stages  of  Venice,  Lisbon,  Vienna,  and  London.  Yet 
his  work  for  the  Comedie  Italienne  was  far  from 
satisfactory  either  from  the  point  of  view  of  receipts 
or  of  critical  favour. 

Only  in  the  trilogy  dealing  with  Arlecchino's  love 
for  Camilla  did  he  win  the  absolute  approval  of  the 
French  critics.  Of  Harlequin  and  Camilla  s  Love 
(Gli  Amori  di  Arlecchino  e  di  Camilla)  the  first  play 
of  this  series,  Grimm3  says  that  "the  construction 
and  plot  are  simple,  yet  full  of  resource  and  imagi- 
nation." Bachaumont,  after  praising  its  "true  beau- 
ties," adds  that  its  "very  numerous  incidents  are  all 
connected,  and  arise  naturally  from  one  another," 
while  "pathos  and  comedy  are  so  thoroughly  welded 
in  this  play  as  to  leave  no  incongruity."  4  Harle- 
quin's Jealousy  (La  Gelosia  di  Arlecchino)  and 
Camilla's  Tribulations  (Le  Inquietudini  di  Camilla] 
complete  this  trilogy,  the  last  play  of  which  Grimm 
calls  a  "masterpiece  of  naturalism,  truth,  imagina- 
tion, and  subtlety" ;  yet  being  mere  scenari,  they  have 

3  Correspondance  litteraire. 

4  Memoir es  secrets,  quoted  by  Rabany. 


5o6  GOLDONI 

not  been  handed  down  to  us  in  their  original  form. 

A  year  or  so  after  their  production,  however,  Gol- 
doni,  instigated,  as  has  been  already  pointed  out,  by 
a  French  woman  of  "wit,  intelligence,  and  taste," 
rewrote  and  reconstructed  them  for  the  Venetian 
stage.  Since  in  the  company  that  was  to  play  them, 
there  was  "no  harlequin  equal  to  Carlino  or  Sacchi," 
he  "dignified  the  subject,"  he  says,  by  replacing 
Arlecchino  and  the  servetta  with  middle-class  charac- 
ters, and  called  the  three  plays:  Zellnda  and  Lin- 
doro's  Love  (Gil  Amori  di  Zelinda  e  Lindoro), 
Lindoro's  Jealousy  (La  Gelosia  di  Lindoro),  and 
Zelinda' s  Tribulations  (Le  Inquietudini  di  Zelinda). 
"They  did  not  have,"  he  adds,  "a  startling  success  in 
Venice,  but  they  were  well  enough  received  by  an 
enlightened  public  more  content  with  the  compo- 
sition than  the  execution." 

As  the  plays  composing  the  love  trilogy  of  Zelinda 
and  Lindoro  are  suggestive,  both  in  action  and  psy- 
chology, of  French  contemporary  comedy,  the  praise 
bestowed  by  Grimm  and  Bachaumont  upon  the  three 
scenari  from  which  they  are  taken  seems  due  to  Gol- 
doni's  success  in  pleasing  the  Parisian  taste  of  his 
day,  rather  than  to  any  marked  display  of  his  genius 
as  a  naturalist.  Being  constructed  in  accordance 
with  the  formula  that  a  play  to  be  successful  should 
unite,  disunite,  and  reunite  a  pair  of  lovers,  they  are 
three  rather  obvious  solutions  of  this  dramatic  prob- 
lem. 


DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE      507 

Though  both  are  honourably  born  above  their  sta- 
tions, Zelinda  is  a  housemaid  and  Lindoro  a  private 
secretary  in  a  household  where  Zelinda  is  loved  un- 
availingly  by  the  master,  his  son,  and  his  butler. 
Falling  in  love  with  each  other,  and  becoming  ob- 
jects of  the  jealousy  of  both  master  and  mistress, 
Zelinda  and  Lindoro  are  discharged.  Employed  by 
a  "respectable"  actress  named  Barbara,  "decorum" 
causes  them  to  be  dismissed  again  when  their  mutual 
love  is  discovered;  whereupon,  after  many  lachry- 
mose adventures,  they  are  united  in  honest  wedlock; 
this  being  in  brief  the  story  of  their  love.  In  the 
play  concerning  Lindoro's  jealousy,  a  love-letter 
written  to  Barbara,  the  actress,  is  entrusted  to  Zelinda. 
Discovering  it  in  her  possession,  Lindoro  believes  it 
to  have  been  written  to  her,  and  as  she  refuses  to 
betray  her  trust,  his  jealousy  causes  him  to  track  her 
to  Barbara's  house,  only  to  learn  that  her  visit  there 
is  not  for  clandestine  love,  but  to  prevent  her  mas- 
ter's son  from  contracting  a  misalliance  with  an 
actress.  In  the  play  about  her  tribulations,  Zelinda, 
wishing  to  make  the  most  of  Lindoro's  jealousy, 
seeks  to  keep  it  alive  in  order  that  his  love  may  not 
smoulder;  Lindoro  striving  meanwhile  to-  prevent 
-his  jealousy  from  tormenting  her.  Finding  him 
cured  of  his  suspicions,  and  thinking  that  his  love 
for  her  is  dead,  Zelinda  becomes  jealous  in  turn. 
Having  suffered  mutually,  both  are  prepared,  as 
Charles  Dejob  points  out,  "to  proceed  through  their 


508  GOLDONI 

tears,  not  toward  a  rupture,  but  toward  definite 
peace,  founded  henceforth  upon  an  unalterable  confi- 
dence in  each  other."  5 

The  lachrymose  story  of  Zelinda  and  Lindoro's 
love,  jealousy,  and  tribulations  emulates  the  French 
comedy  of  Goldoni's  day,  yet  does  scant  justice  to 
his  genius.  Though  simple  in  construction  and 
spirited  in  action,  though  perhaps  psychologically 
correct  in  their  delineation  of  the  tender  passion,  the 
plays  of  this  trilogy  lack  both  characterization  and 
atmosphere,  the  essential  elements  that  make  Goldoni 
the  "painter  of  nature"  Voltaire  declared  him  to  be. 

Alone  among  the  dramatis  persona,  Barbara  is 
not  a  lay  figure  whereon  to  display  the  deftly  woven 
fabric  of  the  story;  yet  even  she  is  thematically 
drawn  to  expound  the  decency  of  Italian  actresses, 
a  tenet  the  reader  hesitates  to  accept  in  view  of  the 
author's  frequently  requited  passion  for  soubrettes. 
Yet  it  must  be  confessed  that  he  pays  due  tribute  to 
the  virtue  of  actresses  when  he  says :  "I  have  known 
in  this  profession  very  excellent  people  of  both  sexes, 
whose  virtue  would  put  to  shame  persons  of  the  most 
retired  life." 6  Barbara,  living  virtuously  in  the 
midst  of  temptation  in  order  that  she  may  "prove 
worthy  the  hand  of  some  honest  man  who  will  rescue 
her  from  her  base  calling"  and  "bathing  with  her 
tears  the  pittance  she  derives  from  an  arduous  and 
perilous  profession,"  although  she  is  so  prudish  as 

5  Op.  cit. 

6  Dedication  to  the  Marquis  Scipione  Maffei  of  //  Mollere. 


DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE     509 

to  drive  two  worthy  servants  from  her  house  for 
fear  their  mutual  love  will  discredit  her,  is  instruc- 
tive, nevertheless,  because  of  the  side-light  she  sheds 
upon  her  author's  dramatic  morals. 

Indeed,  Goldoni's  comedies  are  amazingly  free 
from  libertinage.  In  The  Good  Wife  two  women 
of  questionable  virtue  make  merry  with  a  rich  young 
gentleman;  in  The  Bankruptcy  an  opera  singer  ruins 
both  a  nobleman  and  a  merchant;  in  The  Mistress 
of  the  Inn  two  gay  actresses  appear,  though  they  do 
not  wanton;  in  The  Obedient  Daughter  Brighella 
thrives  upon  the  munificence  of  his  daughter's  ad- 
mirers; in  The  Man  of  the  World  Truffaldino  ex- 
ploits his  sister's  charms;  in  The  Jovial  Men  an 
opera  singer  courts  married  men;  and  in  The 
Smyrna  Manager  second-rate  songstresses  with 
cracked  voices  pluck  aged  philanderers ;  yet  all  these 
more  or  less  shady  ladies  are  but  minor  characters 
who  serve  to  point  a  moral  rather  than  to  adorn  a 
tale,  it  being  their  author's  avowed  intention  to  decry 
vice,  not  to  sanction  it.  Moreover,  unless  a  scene  be- 
tween an  actress  and  a  stage  director  in  The  Comic 
Theatre  be  deemed  of  questionable  morality,7  his 
dialogue  is  untainted  by  the  suggestiveness  that  so 
impairs  the  ethical  tone  of  the  modern  European 
stage. 

Although  French  and  Italian  morals  throughout 
the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries  were  at  a 
far  lower  ebb  than  they  are  at  present,  the  tone  of 

7  Act  i,  Scene  5. 


5io  GOLDONI 

French  and  Italian  comedy  rose  to  a  higher  level 
then  than  it  has  since  attained  in  either  land,  a 
triumph  of  artistic  decency  due  in  France  to  Moliere 
and  in  Italy  to  Goldoni,  the  plays  of  both  these  mas- 
ters being,  in  view  of  the  morals  of  their  respective 
ages,  singularly  free  from  sensual  situations,  and 
even  from  innuendo.  True,  Moliere  occasionally 
introduced  coarse  language  in  his  plays;  yet  he 
eschewed  licentious  situations,  such  as  are  to  be  found 
in  Menander,  in  Plautus,  and  even  in  Shakespeare. 
Goldoni,  too,  is  open  to  the  charge  of  having  pre- 
sented in  The  House  Party  a  triangle  of  domestic 
infelicity  similar  in  outline  to  the  conventional 
framework  of  the  plays  of  modern  Europe;  yet  he 
has  so  tempered  his  situations  that  the  apical  angle 
describing  his  story  of  marital  incompatibility, 
being  neither  viciously  obtuse  nor  insinuatingly 
acute,  may  justly  be  termed  right.  Pertinent  to  the 
commendable  freedom  from  indecency  of  both 
Moliere  and  Goldoni  is  this  view  of  a  modern 
Frenchman : 

Many  men  of  letters  of  our  own  day  believe  that  art  has 
nothing  to  gain  from  being  too  expressly  concerned  with  morality. 
It  is  singular  to  state,  however,  that  all  creative  ages  thought 
exactly  the  contrary;  not  only  the  frigid  or  inflexible  men  of  the 
great  centuries,  but  the  men  of  imagination  as  well,  believing  that 
the  beautiful  and  the  good  are  inseparable.8 

To  return  from  this  ethical  wandering  to  Goldoni's 
dramatic  work  in  France,  it  is  interesting  to  note 
that  the  worthy  plays  he  wrote  during  his  engage- 

8  Charles  Dejob:  op.  cit. 


DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE     511 

ment  at  the  Comedie  Italienne  did  not  achieve  im- 
mediate success.  First  of  these  in  point  of  chronol- 
ogy is  The  Fan  (II  Ventaglio),  a  play  that  enjoys 
the  distinction  of  having  been  performed  in  English 
more  frequently — in  the  United  States  at  least — than 
any  of  Goldoni's  comedies,9  a  success  due  more  to 
deft  dramaturgy  than  to  the  naturalistic  qualities  in 
which  its  author  excels.  Skilful  in  construction, 
vivacious  in  dialogue,  this  adroitly  woven  play  pre- 
sents Goldoni's  aptitude  as  a  dramatic  craftsman 
rather  than  his  genius  as  a  painter  of  life.  II  Conte 
di  Rocca  Marina,  its  most  entertaining  character, 
only  iterates  the  droll  qualities  that  make  the  Mar- 
chese  di  Forlipopoli  and  Don  Marzio  such  enga- 
ging studies  of  decayed  gentility;  moreover,  no  faith- 
ful portraits,  such  as  those  of  Lunardo  and  his  boor- 
ish cronies,  adorn  it,  while  one  searches  it  in  vain 
for  such  true  pictures  of  street  life  as  are  to  be  found 
in  The  Chioggian  Brawls,  or  for  such  "lacerations 
of  the  human  heart"  as  are  portrayed  in  the  love 
scenes  of  this  play. 

The  Fan  is  a  comedy  with  many  short,  sparkling 

9  In  1898  //  Ventaglio,  translated  by  Henry  B.  Fuller,  was  performed 
in  the  Grand  Opera  House,  Chicago,  by  the  pupils  of  Miss  Anna  Mor- 
gan; and  in  the  following  year  the  inferior  translation  edited  by  Helen 
Zimmern  was  presented  by  a  dramatic  school  in  New  York  City.  In 
1909  Mr.  Fuller's  translation  was  again  played  in  Chicago  by  students 
of  the  University  of  Chicago;  in  1910-1911  The  Yale  University  Dra- 
matic Association  presented  Professor  Kenneth  McKenzie's  translation 
of  //  Ventaglio  in  Bridgeport,  Conn.,  Albany,  N.  Y.,  Buffalo,  N.  Y., 
Erie,  Penn.,  Pittsburgh,  Penn.,  Washington,  D.  C,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y., 
New  York,  N.  Y.,  New  Haven,  Conn.,  Northampton,  Mass.,  and  Hart- 
ford, Conn.  In  1912  a  translation  by  Professor  Stark  Young  was  played 
by  The  Curtain  Club  of  the  University  of  Texas. 


5i2  GOLDONI 

scenes,  enhanced  by  continuous  action  and  movement, 
in  which,  to  quote  its  author,  "action  plays  a  more 
important  part  than  words."  The  scene  is  a  vil- 
lage street,  the  characters  drawn  from  the  innkeepers, 
apothecaries,  shoemakers,  milliners,  petite  noblesse, 
and  peasantry  of  Goldoni's  native  land;  yet  they 
are  sketches,  rather  than  portraits  such  as  he  painted 
in  The  Boors  and  The  Chlogglan  Brawls.  A  fan 
falls  from  a  window,  and  from  this  incident,  to  quote 
Ernesto  Masi,  "Goldoni  twists  and  untwists  with 
much  naturalness  one  of  the  most  complicated  of 
comic  intrigues."  10  This  plot,  wherein  the  innocent 
falling  of  a  woman's  fan  into  the  hands  of  the  wrongf 
girl  sets  a  whole  village  agog  with  scandal  and  jeal- 
ousy, is  too  complicated  to  detail  here.  As  Signor 
Masi  points  out,  "Goldoni's  inspiration  came  evi- 
dently from  the  Improvised  Comedy,  here  placed  at 
the  service  of  the  most  studied  and  refined  art  of 
comedy." 

It  is  easy  to  agree  with  Professor  Kenneth  McKen- 
zie,  one  of  the  able  translators  of  The  Fan,  when 
he  says  that  the  Venetian  dramatist's  "skill  in  tech- 
nical construction  is  shown  in  this  play  by  the  con- 
tinuous series  of  amazing  situations."  It  is  not, 
however,  a  play  by  which  to  judge  of  its  author's 
genius,  it  being  the  last  word  of  the  Italian  comedy 
of  intrigue,  but  not  the  truest  word  of  Goldoni  the 
naturalist.11 

10  Scelta  di  commedie  di  Carlo  Goldoni. 

11  The  following   criticism  from  the  Hartford   Courant   of   the  per- 


DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE     513 

Yet  to  call  this  play  the  last  word  of  the  comedy  of 
intrigue  is  unjust,  perhaps,  to  The  Marriage  by  Com- 
petition (II  Matrimonio  per  concorso),  a  comedy 
Goldoni  sent  to  Vendramin  only  a  few  months  after 
the  first  Parisian  performance  of  The  Fan,  which 
shares  with  it  the  honour  of  displaying  Goldoni's 
dexterity  in  stagecraft  at  its  best,  a  dexterity  in  which 
he  is  rivalled  only  by  such  master-builders  of  plays  as 
Scribe  and  Sardou.  Indeed  it  would  be  difficult  to 
find  a  more  deftly  woven  plot  than  that  of  The  Mar- 
riage by  Competition,  yet,  like  The  Fan,  this  play 
lacks  a  central  character  of  strength,  the  primal  ele- 
ment of  great  comedy.  Moreover,  it  is  artificial  in 
tone,  no  clear  note  of  nature  being  sounded  in  this 
sprightly  comedy  of  equivocation. 

Pandolfo,  an  Italian  merchant  of  ignoble  ante- 
cedents, arrives  with  his  daughter  Lisetta  at  an  inn 
in  Paris,  kept  by  Filippo,  an  Italian  locandiere,  with 
whom  Lisetta  falls  in  love.  Pandolfo,  however, 
having  once  been  a  servant,  will  brook  no  base  inn- 
keeper for  a  son-in-law.  With  a  view  to  making  a 
desirable  match,  he  inserts  the  following  advertise- 
ment in  a  newspaper: 

formance   of   this   play   by   the   Yale   Dramatic   Association,    shows   the 
effectiveness  of   Goldoni's  stagecraft  in  our  own  day: 

"The  fan,  as  presented  Saturday  evening,  is  a  lively  piece,  and 
serves  well  the  purpose  of  the  student  actors  who  played  it.  There  is 
much  action,  there  is  abundance  of  crisp  dialogue,  there  is  good  charac- 
ter drawing.  The  play  is  one  of  the  manners  of  the  time,  in  great 
measure,  and  as  such  it  is  interesting,  but  it  is  also  possessed  of  a  plot 
of  humorous  value,  and,  despite  the  age  of  the  work,  the  action  seems 
no  more  old-fashioned  than  in  the  comparatively  modern  London  Assur- 
ance (given  by  the  Yale  boys  here  a  year  ago) — and  the  language  is 
not  half  so  stilted  and  uninteresting. 


GOLDONI 

Notice  to  the  Public: 

A  foreigner  of  Italian  birth  has  arrived  in  this  city,  a  merchant 
by  calling,  of  moderate  fortune  and  original  ideas.  He  has  a 
daughter  to  marry,  of  youthful  age,  passable  beauty,  and  admi- 
rable grace,  medium  height,  chestnut  hair,  fair  complexion,  black 
eyes,  smiling  mouth,  active  mind,  uncommon  talent,  and  the  best 
heart  in  the  world.  The  father  will  dower  her  in  proportion  as 
the  candidate  is  acceptable  to  him,  or  to  his  daughter.  Both  are 
stopping  at  the  Eagle  Inn.  There  those  who  wish  to  marry  her 
may  address  themselves,  whereupon  they  will  be  admitted  to  the 
competition. 

At  the  time  this  advertisement  appears,  Anselmo, 
an  honourable  Italian  merchant,  arrives  at  Filippo's 
inn  with  his  daughter  Doralice.  Here  Alberto,  a 
young  Italian  of  means,  attracted  by  the  curious 
method  Pandolfo  has  chosen  to  dispose  of  his  daugh- 
ter, also  comes,  in  order  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
lass  whose  hand  has  been  offered  in  competition. 
Meeting  Doralice,  he  falls  in  love  with  her,  while 
believing  her  to  be  the  Italian  merchant's  daughter 
advertised  in  the  paper.  Filippo,  the  innkeeper, 
and  Lisetta,  who  is  no  party  to  her  father's  plan  to 
marry  her  to  the  highest  bidder,  abet  this  case  of 
mistaken  identity  to  further  their  own  love.  With- 
out detailing  the  intricacies  of  this  skilful  plot,  it 
may  be  said  an  artful  story  of  mistaken  identity  is 
evolved,  so  spirited  that  it  only  awaits  the  modern- 
izing touches  of  a  commercial  play-builder  and  a 
popular  composer,  to  become  a  musical  comedy  of 
the  sort  in  which  audiences  of  the  present  day  delight. 

The    light   that    The   Marriage    by    Competition 


DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE     515 

sheds  upon  the  French  customs  of  its  day  gives  it  an 
added  interest,  Goldoni  having  written  it  to  be  per- 
formed before  his  fellow-countrymen,  instead  of 
upon  the  Parisian  stage.  In  order  that  the  Venetians 
might  learn  how  the  Parisians  differed  from  them- 
selves, he  gives  curious  details  of  Parisian  life,  such 
as  the  habits  of  cabmen,  the  comparative  value  of 
monies,  the  freedom  enjoyed  by  French  women,  the 
advantages  of  la  petite  poste,  and  other  Parisian  cus- 
toms that  had  pleased  him,  while  in  the  following 
passage  he  explains  why  his  own  comedies  did  not 
succeed  so  well  in  Paris  as  in  his  native  land: 

MADAME    FONTENE. 

I  say,  what  do  you  find  that  is  pleasing  in  the  Italian  comedy? 

MONSIEUR   LA   ROSE. 

I  enjoy  it  because  I  understand  it.  You  cannot  appreciate  it 
because  you  don't  understand  it.  That  is  why  an  Italian  author 
in  Paris,  writing  in  his  own  language,  will  never  see  his  theatre 
filled.  The  women  make  the  success  of  plays.  The  women  don't 
understand;  the  women  do  not  go;  the  men  pay  court  to  the  fair 
sex,  hence  there  remain  for  the  Italians  only  a  few  lovers  of  their 
language,  a  few  people  attracted  by  chance,  a  few  authors  to 
speak  well  of  them,  and  a  few  critics  to  speak  ill  of  them. 

A  similar  psychology  -of  the  theatrical  public  is 
presented  by  Goldoni  in  his  memoirs,  when  in  speak- 
ing of  The  Jovial  Women  he  says:  "I  paid  court  to 
the  women  of  my  country,  but  at  the  same  time  I 
worked  for  my  own  interest,  since  in  order  to  please 
the  public  you  must  commence  by  flattering  the 
ladies";  an  exposition  of  the  part  borne  by  women 


516  GOLDONI 

in  ensuring  the  success  of  a  play  that  is  no  less  true 
of  the  present  day. 

Years  of  practical  experience  had  taught  him  the 
futility  of  opposing  the  popular  taste.  He  had 
striven  manfully  to  reform  the  Italian  stage;  a  fickle 
public,  charmed  by  Carlo  Gozzi's  fairy-tales,  had 
forced  him  to  seek  employment  in  a  foreign  land. 
There  he  served  his  employers  faithfully,  studying 
Parisian  conditions,  and  supplying  the  stage  of  the 
Comedie  Italienne  with  the  kind  of  plays  the  public 
demanded.  Forced  by  the  taste  of  the  day  to  return 
/  to  the  methods  of  the  Improvised  Comedy  he  had 
fought  so  resolutely  to  banish  from  his  native  land, 
he  was  constrained  at  the  age  of  fifty-five  to  retrace 
the  steps  he  had  so  laboriously  taken  toward  the  goal 
of  his  ambitions.  Backward  he  picked  his  way,  like 
some  valiant  mountaineer,  who,  baffled  by  the  ele- 
ments, retires  to  the  valley  to  await  a  more  propitious 
time  for  scaling  the  highest  peak.  Skilled  in  his 
calling,  knowing  the  caprices  of  the  public,  he  re- 
tired from  the  heights  of  naturalistic  comedy  to  the 
level  of  Improvised  Comedy,  and  from  its  elements 
he  contrived  such  plays  as  The  Fan  and  The  Mar- 
riage by  Competition,  the  final  word  of  that  comedy, 
as  well  as  of  play  construction,  no  modern  dramatist 
having  more  skilfully  woven  theatric  materials  into 
nimble  plays  than  has  Goldoni  in  these  two  deft 
pieces.  iStill  versatile,  adroit,  and  capable,  this 
artist  who  had  painted  mankind  truly,  became  a  play- 
wright in  the  literal  seri&e.  An  artificer  by  force  of 


DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE     517 

circumstances,  the  artist  in  him  lay  dormant  while 
he  plied  his  trade  for  the  Comedie  Italienne,  even 
The  Fan  and  The  Marriage  by  Competition  being 
merely  intricate  scaffolds  artfully  built  by  a  master- 
craftsman.  To  become  pure  comedy  they  need  to 
be  walled  solidly  with  the  enduring  truth  to  nature 
that  adorns  the  Venetian  comedies  of  Goldoni 
the  artist.  Meanwhile  Goldoni,  the  playwright, 
wrought  plays  at  the  behest  of  his  employers,  but 
"seldom  went  to  see  them"  because  the  artist  in  him 
"liked  good  comedy." 

Indeed  so  thoroughly  had  his  artistic  spirit  been 
broken  by  the  scorn  of  his  countrymen  that  he  even 
emulated  Carlo  Gozzi,  by  sending  to  Venice  for  per- 
formance there,  The  Good  Genius  and  The  Bad 
Genius  (II  Genio  buono  e  II  genio  cattivo),  an  ex- 
travaganza, as  we  should  call  it  to-day,  in  which  he 
meets  Gozzi  on  his  own  ground.  An  allegorical 
harlequinade,  a  jumble  of  fantastic  scenes,  in  which 
the  chief  characters  fly  to  Paris,  London,  and  Tripoli, 
then  back  to  the  Italian  countryside  whence  they 
came,  this  play,  with  its  ballets  and  transformations, 
is  designed  to  please  the  eye,  not  the  intellect.  In 
the  temptation  of  Arlecchino  and  his  wife  Camilla 
by  the  genius  of  evil,  and  their  salvation  by  the  genius 
of  goodness,  it  tells  a  moral  story,  it  is  true;  yet  it 
is  a  story  as  old  as  that  of  Adam's  fall,  and  very 
tritely  told  in  a  way  quite  unworthy  its  author,  whose 
artistic  sense  arose  in  protest;  since  he  says  that  "to 
flatter  the  bad  taste  of  a  country  where  I  had  striven 


Si8  GOLDONI 

to  establish  good  taste,  pricked  my  conscience." 
When  his  engagement  with  the  Comedie  Italienne 
ended,  and  he  became  Italian  tutor  to  Madame  Ade- 
laide, Goldoni  forgot  his  theatrical  trials  amid  court 
gaieties  and  court  intrigues,  but  did  not  cease  to  love 
his  art.  For  the  Comedie  Italienne  he  had  for- 
sworn his  ideals,  building  at  the  request  of  its  actors 
theatric  plays,  constructed  along  popular  lines— 
scenari  and  comedies  of  intrigue,  in  which  the  plot 
was  dominant,  but  not  a  single  comedy  of  character. 
Seven  years  after  his  engagement  with  the  Italian 
players  had  ended,  he  wrote,  not  in  his  own  tongue, 
but  in  that  of  his  adopted  country,  The  Beneficent 
Bear  (Le  Bourru  bienfaisant),  a  true  comedy  of 
character,  ranking  in  his  dramatic  work  next  to  those 
plays  in  the  Venetian  dialect  that  "do  him  the  great- 
est honour." 

To  triumph  on  the  boards  of  the  Comedie  Fran- 
gaise  had  been  his  dream.  "The  best  of  my  plays 
is  not  worth  the  worst  of  Moliere's,"  he  exclaimed, 
when  he  first  saw  The  Misanthrope  performed;  yet 
when  on  November  4th,  1771,  he  made  his  debut  at 
the  House  of  Moliere,  it  was  with  a  comedy  not  un- 
worthy the  master.  If  The  Beneficent  Bear  does 
not  rise  to  the  sublimity  of  The  Misanthrope,  it  is 
certainly  better  than  the  worst  of  Moliere's  plays; 
moreover,  it  was  written  in  French  by  a  foreigner 
who  came  to  France  in  middle  life,  with  so  poor  a 
knowledge  of  the  language  that  he  went  without  his 
dinner  one  day  while  waiting  for  Madame  Adelaide, 


DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE      519 

because  she  had  said  when  leaving  him,  "a  tantbt" — 
spoken  in  the  sense  of  at  another  time — which  he 
interpreted  by  the  Italian  expression  tantosto,  mean- 
ing immediately.  When  The  Beneficent  Bear  was 
staged,  several  years  had  elapsed  since  its  author  had 
stood  hungry  in  a  royal  antechamber;  meanwhile 
he  had  mastered  the  French  tongue  to  an  astounding 
degree  of  perfection  when  his  age  is  considered,  he 
being  sixty-four  at  the  time  when  he  had  his  hearing 
at  the  Comedie  Franchise.  "I  wished  to  prove  to 
those  who  did  not  know  Italian,"  he  says  in  one  of 
the  ingenuous  outbursts  of  his  memoirs,  "that  I  occu- 
pied a  place  among  dramatic  authors;  and  I  decided 
that  I  must  either  succeed  or  not  undertake  it." 
Yet  to  invade  the  realm  of  Moliere  was  decidedly 
an  act  of  temerity  on  the  part  of  this  native  of  Italy. 

Though  not  the  equal  of  Moliere's  masterpieces, 
nor  of  Goldoni's  best  Venetian  comedies,  The  Benefi- 
cent Bear  is  certainly  worthy  an  eminent  place  upon 
the  French  stage  of  its  day.  In  characterization,  the 
prime  element  of  dramatic  greatness,  it  surpasses  the 
feminine  comedies  of  Marivaux,  while  beside  Beau- 
marchais's  inimitable  Figaro,  its  titular  character, 
Geronte,  may  stand  without  being  dwarfed  entirely. 
Although  his  bearish  utterances  present  no  such  ar- 
raignment of  a  rotten  aristocracy  as  nimble-witted 
Figaro's  racy  speeches,  Geronte  is,  nevertheless,  a 
thoroughly  natural  human  being,  brusque,  overbear- 
ing, irascible,  yet  benevolent  as  the  name  of  the  play 
implies ;  in  a  word,  a  cantankerous  old  bachelor  with 


520  GOLDONI 

a  kindly  heart,  sketched  to  the  life — a  character  new, 
as  his  author  declares,  to  the  stage,  though  not  to 
real  life,  and  still  lusty,  while  Marivaudage  lan- 
guishes. Being  a  less  dramatic  though  not  a  less 
human  type  than  Harpagon,  Goldoni's  kindly  bear 
stands  on  a  step  below  Moliere's  miser. 

Geronte  is  imperious  because  he  is  rich  and  used 
to  being  obeyed;  yet  he  loves  his  niece  Angelique 
and  his  nephew  Dalancour,  even  though  he  conceives 
the  control  of  their  destinies  to  be  his  divine  right. 
The  nephew  is  an  uxorious  young  weakling,  who, 
through  love  for  his  extravagant,  frivolous,  yet  de- 
voted wife,  wastes  his  patrimony  to  provide  her  with 
stylish  clothes  and  equipages.  He  even  tampers  with 
his  sister's  dowry,  and  to  recoup  his  pilfering,  re- 
sorts to  unfortunate  speculation.  When  the  curtain 
rises,  he  is  a  ruined  man,  whose  sole  hope  lies  in  his 
uncle.  Living  unostentatiously  himself,  attended  by 
a  housekeeper  and  a  single  man-servant,  Geronte 
takes  this  old-fashioned  view  of  his  nephew's  ex- 
travagance : 

I  have  nothing  to  do  with  his  embarrassments  nor  his  wife's 
follies.  His  property  is  his  own;  if  he  squanders  it,  if  he  ruins 
himself,  so  much  the  worse  for  him.  But  in  the  case  of  my  niece, 
I  am  the  head  of  the  family,  I  am  the  master;  it  is  my  duty  to 
provide  for  her. 

In  order  to  conceal  his  misappropriation  of  her 
dowry,  Dalancour  resolves  to  confine  his  sister  in  a 
convent;  yet  she,  like  most  young  ladies  in  old  com- 
edy, has  a  secret  love-affair  with  a  young  spark  named 


DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE      521 

Valere.  Being  told  of  the  threat  to  immure  her, 
Geronte  displays  both  his  temper  and  his  love  for 
her,  in  a  delightful  scene  in  which  he  so  cows  An- 
gelique  with  his  gruffness,  while  vowing  he  will 
balk  his  nephew's  designs  by  finding  her  a  husband, 
that  she  dare  not  confess  her  love  for  Valere.  No 
more  dare  her  brother  Dalancour  confess  his  debts 
to  his  wife;  but  to  Dorval,  his  uncle's  phlegmatic 
friend,  he  confides  the  uncongenial  task  of  obtaining 
for  him  the  beneficent  bear's  mercy,  which  disinter- 
ested act  Dorval  undertakes  to  accomplish. 

Geronte's  imperious  brusqueness  and  the  fear  in 
which  Dorval  holds  him  are  made  apparent  when, 
over  a  game  of  chess,  Dorval  attempts  to  intercede 
for  the  Bear's  scapegrace  nephew  and  his  lovelorn 
niece,  only  to  be  browbeaten  into  accepting  the  lat- 
ter's  hand  himself,  in  spite  of  the  disparity  in  their 
years  and  the  fact  that  she  already  loves  another. 
Dorval  does  not,  of  course,  marry  Angelique,  nor  is 
her  brother  imprisoned  for  debt,  the  goddess  to  step 
from  the  machine  being  Madame  Dalancour,  the 
latter's  extravagant  wife. 

When  the  lovers'  matters  are  at  sixes  and  sevens, 
and  the  bear  at  odds  with  every  one,  yet  indulgent 
to  all — even  to  the  nephew  he  has  bullied  so  unmer- 
cifully— Madame  Dalancour  throws  herself  upon 
his  generosity,  pleading  her  inexperience  and  youth 
as  her  only  excuse  for  her  blindness  to  the  true  state 
of  her  husband's  finances.  If  only  he  will  forgive 
his  nephew,  she  promises  Geronte  to  withdraw  for 


522  GOLDONI 

ever  from  his  sight.  Finding  him  obdurate,  she 
faints,  a  feminine  subterfuge  that  conquers  the  ten- 
der-hearted bear;  so  when  he  has  aroused  her  with 
splashes  of  eau-de-Cologne  in  her  pretty  face,  he 
forgives  her. 

Interceded  with  on  behalf  of  his  niece  and  her 
lover,  he  exclaims:  "Plague  take  my  disposition! 
I  can't  keep  angry  as  long  as  I  want  to.  I  could  box 
my  own  ears!"  Nephew,  niece,  friend,  and  house- 
keeper implore  anew  for  the  lovers.  "Be  silent!" 
he  cries.  "Let  me  alone!  May  the  devil  take  you 
all!  Let  him  marry  her!" 

"Without  a  dowry?"  asks  his  housekeeper. 

"Without  a  dowry!"  he  storms.  "I  marry  my 
niece  without  a  dowry!  Am  I  not  able  to  give  her 
a  dowry?"  Whereupon  he  makes  good  the  dowry 
Angelique's  brother  has  squandered,  adding  a  hun- 
dred thousand  livres  on  his  own  behalf. 

A  beneficent  bear  indeed — a  kindly  old  man  who 
has  lived  alone  for  so  many  years  that  the  desire  to 
be  obeyed  has  become  a  habit  rather  than  a  trait. 
He  blusters  and  loves  in  the  same  breath,  raises  his 
stick  and  opens  his  purse  at  the  same  moment — yet 
he  has  a  ring  in  his  nose,  and  may  be  led  by  any  one 
not  afraid  of  him.  His  servant  Picard  has  the  trick 
of  wheedling  him.  Witness  the  scene  when  Picard 
enters  after  Geronte  has  called. 

PICARD 

Here,  sir. 


DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE      523 

GERONTE 

You  rascal!     Why  don't  you  answer? 

PICARD 

Pardon  me,  sir,  here  I  am. 

GERONTE 

Disgraceful!     I  called  ten  times. 

PICARD 

I  am  sorry,  but — 

GERONTE 

Ten  times !     It 's  scandalous. 

PICARD 

(Aside  and  angry)   He's  in  a  fury  now. 

GERONTE 

Have  you  seen  Dorval? 

PICARD 

Yes,  sir. 

GERONTE 

Where  is  he? 

PICARD 

He  's  gone,  sir. 

GERONTE 

How  did  he  go? 

PICARD 

(Roughly)  He  went  as  other  people  go. 

GERONTE 

Insolent  rogue !  Do  you  dare  answer  your  master  in  this  way  ? 
(He  raises  his  cane.) 

PICARD 

(Very  angrily)  Give  me  my  discharge,  sir. 

GERONTE 

Your  discharge — worthless  fellow!  (He  strikes  him..  .Picard 
falls  between  the  chair  and  the  table.  Geronte  runs  to  his  assist- 
ance and  helps  him  up.) 

PICARD 

Oh!     (He  leans  on  the  chair  and  shows  he  is  hurt.) 


524 


GOLDONI 


GERONTE 

Are  you  hurt  ?     Are  you  hurt  ? 

PICARD 

Very  much  hurt;  you  have  crippled  me 

GERONTE 

Oh,  I  am  so  sorry!     Can  you  walk? 

PICARD 

(Still  angry)  I  believe  so,  sir.      (He  tries,  and  walks  badly.) 

GERONTE 

(Sharply)  Go  on. 

PICARD 

(Mortified)   Do  you  drive  me  away,  sir? 

GERONTE 

(Warmly)  No.  Go  to  your  wife's  house  and  be  taken  care 
of.  (Pulls  out  his  purse  and  offers  him  money.)  Take  this  to  get 
cured. 

PICARD 

(Aside,  with  tenderness)  What  a  master! 

GERONTE 

Take  it.     (Giving  him  money.) 

PICARD 

No,  sir,  I  hope  it  will  be  nothing. 

GERONTE 

Take  it,  I  tell  you. 

PICARD 

(Still  refusing  it)   Sir— 

GERONTE 

(Very  warmly)  What!  you  refuse  my  money?  Do  you  refuse 
it  from  spite,  or  pride,  or  hatred?  Do  you  believe  I  did  it  on 
purpose?  Take  this  money.  Take  it.  Come,  don't  make  me 
furious. 

PICARD 

Don't   get   angry,   sir.     I    thank   you    for   all   your   kindness. 
(Takes  the  money.) 


DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE      525 

GERONTE 

Go  quickly. 

PICARD 

Yes,  sir.      (Walks  badly.) 

GERONTE 

Go  slowly. 

PICARD 

Yes,  sir. 

GERONTE 

Wait,  wait;  take  my  cane. 

PICARD 

Sir— 

GERONTE 

Take  it,  I  tell  you !     I  wish  you  to. 

PICARD 

(Takes  the  cane.)     What  kindness.12 

The  plot  of  The  Beneficent  Bear  is  obvious,  the 
dialogue  without  brilliant  flashes  of  wit,  but  the 
characterization  is  true,  the  comedy  in  the  best  spirit 
of  the  art — a  picture  of  life  lightly  but  sincerely 
painted,  a  story  of  a  good  but  gruff  man's  triumph 
over  himself,  told  in  a  way  that  bears  no  kinship 
with  the  sorrow  of  tragedy  or  the  hilarity  of  farce. 
To  maintain  that  it  was  acclaimed  a  masterpiece 
when  produced  at  the  Comedie  Frangaise,  would  be 
idle.  The  French  critics  were  too  accustomed  to  the 
delicate  and  subtle  phrasing  of  Marivaux  and  the 
supple  vivacity  of  Regnard,  to  see  in  Goldoni's 

12  Act  II,  Scene  21.  The  reader  who  recalls  the  consummate  art  with 
which  Signor  Novelli  plays  the  role  of  Geronte,  the  tender  human  man- 
ner in  which  the  above  scene  between  master  and  man  is  rendered  by 
him,  already  knows  the  truth  and  naturalism  of  this  character. 


526  GOLDONI 

naturalism  aught  but  an  Italian  canevas  with  written 
words. 

"The  style  is  extremely  natural,"  said  Bachau- 
mont,  "and  that  is  one  of  the  author's  qualities ;  but 
the  too  elevated  fashion  which  our  modern  writers 
of  comedy  have  attained  makes  it  appear  trivial  and 
dull  to  many  amateurs."  Madame  d'Epinay,  hold- 
ing the  pen  of  her  friend  Grimm,  found  it  "strongly 
conceived  but  feebly  executed,"  and  saw  in  it  the 
work  of  a  man  "more  accustomed  to  the  making  of 
canevas  than  the  detailing  of  plays."  Colle  consid- 
ered it  "bad  and  tiresome,"  and  actually  refused  to 
the  protagonist  "the  merit  of  novelty."  13  Though 
many  of  the  critics  were  captious,  the  public  was 
unstinting  in  its  applause.  Ever  candid  in  relating 
the  public's  approval  or  non-approval  of  his  work, 
Goldoni  thus  tells  in  no  uncertain  tone  of  his  triumph 
on  that  night  when  he,  a  foreigner,  made  his  debut 
in  the  House  of  Moliere. 

During  the  first  performance  of  my  comedy,  I  had  hidden  my- 
self, as  I  had  always  done  in  Italy,  behind  the  back-drop.  I  saw 
nothing,  but  I  heard  my  actors  and  the  applause  of  the  public. 
During  the  entire  performance  I  walked  back  and  forth,  hasten- 
ing my  steps  during  the  lively  situations,  or  lagging  in  the  mo- 
ments of  interest  and  passion,  content  with  my  actors  and  echoing 
the  applause  of  the  public.  When  the  piece  was  finished,  I  heard 
the  clapping  of  hands,  and  cries  which  did  not  stop.  M.  Dauber- 
val  came.  It  was  he  who  was  to  take  me  to  Fontainebleau.  I 
thought  he  was  looking  for  me  because  it  was  time  to  start.  Not 
at  all.  "Come,  monsieur,"  he  said,  "you  must  show  yourself." 

13Bachaumont:  Memoires  secrets;  Grimm:  Correspondance;  Colle: 
Journal  historigue. 


DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE      527 

"Show  myself  to  whom?"  "To  the  public  which  demands  you." 
"No,  my  friend.  Let  us  leave  quickly.  I  could  not  stand  it." 
Then  M.  Lekain  and  M.  Brizard  took  me  by  the  arm  and  led 
me  to  the  stage. 

I  had  seen  authors  courageously  endure  a  similar  ceremony, 
but  I  was  not  accustomed  to  it,  authors  not  appearing  on  the 
stage  in  Italy  to  be  complimented.  I  did  not  conceive  how  a  man 
could  tacitly  say  to  the  audience,  "Gentlemen,  here  I  am;  now 
applaud  me!"  After  having  endured  for  a  few  seconds  the  most 
singular  and  most  annoying  of  positions,  I  retired,  going  through  the 
foyer  to  gain  the  carriage  that  awaited  me.  I  met  many  people 
who  were  looking  for  me,  but  I  recognized  no  one.  Descending 
with  my  guide,  I  entered  the  carriage,  where  my  wife  and  nephew 
had  already  seated  themselves.  The  success  of  my  play  made  them 
weep  with  joy,  and  the  story  of  my  apparition  on  the  stage  made 
them  shout  with  laughter. 

I  was  tired,  I  wanted  to  rest,  I  had  need  of  sleep,  my  heart 
was  contented,  my  mind  at  rest.  In  my  bed  I  should  have  passed 
a  happy  night,  but,  in  a  carriage,  I  could  only  shut  my  eyes  and 
be  awakened  each  moment  by  the  jolting.  Finally,  dozing,  talk- 
ing, yawning,  I  reached  Fontainebleau.  I  slept,  I  dined,  I  took 
a  walk;  and  then  I  saw  my  piece  played  at  the  chateau,  again 
from  behind  the  back-drop. 

Although  presented  to  Louis  XV,  after  this  com- 
mand performance  at  Fontainebleau,  and  compli- 
mented by  his  majesty  and  all  the  royal  family,  Gol- 
doni's  French  path  was  not  entirely  without  thorns. 
Upon  his  return  to  Paris,  he  was  initiated  into  the 
pains  of  a  cabal,  for,  when  his  play  was  again  per- 
formed at  the  Comedie  Frangaise,  the  pit  was  filled 
with  enemies  to  "boo"  it.  "Why  did  this  not  happen 
at  the  first  performance?"  Goldoni  asked  Feuilli,  the 
actor  playing  Picard,  the  valet.  "The  jealous  ones 
did  not  fear  you  then,"  Feuilli  answered.  "They 


528  GOLDONI 

pooh-poohed  the  notion  of  a  foreigner  writing  a  play 
in  French ;  so  the  cabal  was  not  ready.  But  you  have 
nothing  to  dread,"  he  added ;  "the  nail  has  been  hit 
on  the  head ;  your  success  is  assured."  14 

In  no  country  does  patriotism  play  so  important 
a  role  as  in  France;  therefore  this  placing  of  French 
laurels  on  a  foreign  brow  was  unprecedented.  Gol- 
doni's  success  was  phenomenal  from  every  point  of 
view:  his  age;  his  temerity.  And  his  art  is  so  much 
freer  and  more  unpolished  than  the  French  art  of 
that  day  that  the  marvel  is  a  cabal  was  not  formed 
spontaneously  on  the  first  night  to  hiss  this  foreigner's 
work  off  the  stage.  It  is  but  another  evidence  that 
critics  and  their  rules  do  not  govern  dramatic  suc- 
cess, and  that  audiences,  the  world  over,  seldom  fail 
in  appreciating  a  true  picture  of  human  nature,  no 
matter  by  whom  it  is  painted. 

"Nobody  spoke  ill  of  The  Beneficent  Bear"  says 
Goldoni  (a  stretching  of  the  truth  in  view  of  Colic's 
words)  ;  "yet  some  people  thought  it  was  one  of  my 
Italian  plays,  others  that  I  wrote  it  here  in  Italian, 
then  translated  it  into  French.  Not  only  did  I  com- 

14  Le  Bourru  bienfaisant  was  played  at  Chantilly  with  the  Prince  de 
Conde  in  the  title  role;  at  the  Comedie  Franchise  it  had  a  fair,  but 
not  a  long  run,  for  the  period.  After  the  failure  of  L'Avare  fastueux, 
and  between  July  27,  1778,  and  June  26,  1780,  it  was  given  eight  times, 
and  perhaps  oftener  (see  Annexe  V,  Rabany,  op.  cit.).  In  1784  a 
revival  was  announced  (see  Annexe  VI,  ibid.),  but  probably  not  made, 
owing  to  the  popularity  of  Le  Mariage  de  Figaro  by  Beaumarchais. 
In  1792  Goldoni  sold  his  author's  rights  during  his  lifetime  to  the 
Comedie  Franchise,  in  whose  repertory  the  comedy  had  its  place  until 
1849.  In  1878  that  institution  gave  a  special  performance  of  it  as  a  speci- 
men of  Italian  dramaturgy. 


DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE     529 

pose  it  in  French,"  he  continues,  "but  I  thought  in 
the  French  way  when  I  imagined  it.  In  its  senti- 
ments, its  imagery,  its  morals,  and  its  style,  it  bears 
the  imprint  of  its  origin."  A  true  statement;  since 
except  for  the  simplicity  of  the  unpolished  dia- 
logue, and  the  humanly  natural  gruffness  of  Geronte 
the  bear,  it  might  have  been  the  work  of  a  contem- 
porary Frenchman,  so  thoroughly  French  is  it  in 
other  respects.15 

When  next  Goldoni  braved  a  French  audience 
with  a  play  in  its  language,  he  did  not  again  experi- 
ence the  thrill  of  being  led  upon  the  stage  "amid 
hand  clappings  and  cries  that  did  not  stop."  On  the 
contrary,  the  performance  finished,  as  he  says,  "with- 
out any  sign  of  approbation  or  disapproval."  The 
play  that  created  this  atmosphere  of  coldness  was  en- 
titled The  Ostentatious  Miser  (L'Avare  fastueux],  a 
five-act  comedy  played  at  Fontainebleau  for  one  per- 
formance only  by  the  actors  of  the  Comedie  Fran- 
gaise,  on  November  i4th,  1776,  when  its  venturesome 
author  was  sixty-nine  years  of  age.  Five  years  had 
elapsed  since  the  successful  production  of  The  Bene- 
ficent Bear;  during  that  period  Goldoni  had  lived 
upon  his  royal  pension.  "I  said  that  I  wished  to  re- 
pose upon  my  laurels,"  he  declares  in  his  ever  candid 
memoirs,  "but  it  was  the  fear  of  not  succeeding  a 

15  In  La  Casa  nova,  the  play  in  which  the  Bear  had  already  been 
sketched,  and  from  which  a  portion  of  the  plot  was  taken,  Goldoni  is 
thoroughly  Venetian.  Karl  Mantzius  (op.  cit.,  Vol.  II)  calls  attention 
to  the  rumor  that  Carlo  Bertinazzi,  a  popular  actor  in  Paris,  about 
whom  Goldoni  speaks  highly  in  his  memoirs,  was  the  model  of  Le 
Bourru  bienfaisant. 


530  GOLDONI 

second  time  so  well  as  the  first  which  prevented  me 
from  acceding  to  the  desires  of  my  friends  and  of 
satisfying  myself.  At  last  I  surrendered  to  the  solici- 
tations of  others,  as  well  as  to  my  own  self-conceit." 
If  Harpagon  had  not  come  into  the  world  a  cen- 
tury before  him,  Count  de  Chateaudor,  the  pompous 
miser,  who  puts  a  ball  of  paper  into  his  pocket  every 
time  a  bottle  is  opened  at  his  table  and  starves  his 
guests'  horses  as  well  as  his  own,  might  have  passed 
for  quite  an  original  skinflint.  If  simple  Monsieur 
Jourdain,  befuddled  with  his  love  for  rank,  had  not 
already  knocked  at  the  portals  of  society,  this  same 
Chateaudor  of  purchased  title,  who  vainly  tries  to 
enter  exclusive  society,  might  have  been  accepted  as 
the  typical  arriviste.  But  he  is  original  neither  as 
miser  nor  as  parvenu ;  therefore  the  play  to  which  he 
gives  name  becomes  interesting  only  through  its  stage- 
craft and  the  clearness  with  which  a  minor  character 
or  two  is  drawn,  notably  the  Marquis  de  Courbois,  a 
nobleman,  blue  in  blood  but  scant  of  purse.  Yet  even 
he  is  but  a  French  kinsman  of  the  Marchese  di  Forli- 
popoli,  Don  Marzio,  and  II  Conte  di  Rocca  Marina. 
Although  Goldoni  says  not  a  word  in  his  memoirs 
regarding  that  sparkling  comedy  The  Fan,  he  de- 
votes three  entire  chapters  to  The  Ostentatious  Miser, 
more  space,  by  far,  than  is  given  to  any  single  play. 
In  spite  of  this  effort  to  convince  his  readers  that  the 
verdict  delivered  on  a  night  of  "icy  chilliness"  at 
Fontainebleau  was  unjust,  his  last  comedy  failed  be- 
cause it  deserved  to  fail.  The  novelty  of  a  foreigner 


DRAMATIC  WORK  IN  FRANCE     531 

writing  a  play  in  French  had  passed.     Moreover,  old 
age  had  dimmed  this  foreigner's  dramatic  vision. 

"Goldoni  has  emptied  his  bag!"  his  Venetian  audi- 
ence exclaimed  after  the  dismal  failure  of  The 
Whimsical  Old  Man  in  1754.  He  filled  it  success- 
fully, however,  many  times  thereafter  with  such 
strikingly  naturalistic  plays  as  the  Villeggiatura 
series,  The  Boors,  and  The  Chioggian  Brawls]  but 
when  he  took  from  it  The  Ostentatious  Miser,  it  was 
indeed  empty.  During  his  long  lifetime,  this  mar- 
vellous magician  had  drawn  from  his  magic  bag  fully 
two  hundred  and  sixty  tragedies,  tragi-comedies,  ro- 
mantic and  poetic  dramas,  pure  comedies,  scenari, 
melodramas,  and  merry  plays  for  music.  Except  as 
the  librettist  of  a  few  trivial  musical  pieces  he  did 
not  tempt  dramatic  fortune  again.  The  pity  is  that 
he  tempted  it  once  too  often.  To  have  closed  his  long 
career  with  The  Beneficent  Bear  would  have  been 
the  fitting  curtain  to  his  artistic  life. 


XVI 

GOLDONI  AND  MOLII&B 

ON  the  2ist  day  of  January,  1793,  Louis  XVI 
mounted  the  steps  of  the  guillotine  in  the 
Place  de  la  Revolution,  his  last  words  to 
those  whom  he  termed  "his  unfortunate  people"  be- 
ing cut  short  by  drumbeats  and  cries  of  hate.  It  is 
extraordinary  that  at  a  time  so  appalling  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  people  should  have  honoured  a 
foreigner  who  had  held  a  post  in  the  royal  house- 
hold; yet  on  February  yth,  1793,  barely  a  fortnight 
after  "Citizen  Capet"  had  been  put  to  death,  Marie- 
Joseph  de  Chenier,  a  poet  and  deputy,  whose  more 
brilliant  brother  was  soon  to  meet  a  similar  fate,1 
arose  in  the  national  convention  and  pronounced  these 
words,  remarkable  for  a  moment  when  France,  hav- 
ing murdered  her  King,  stood  at  bay  before  angry- 
Europe: 

Kings  encourage  letters  through  pride.  From  a  spirit  of  grati- 
tude, justice,  and  healthy  policy,  free  nations  should  uphold  them. 
I  shall  not  expand  this  truth  uselessly  for  Frenchmen  and,  above 
all,  for  legislators;  but  acting  in  accordance  with  a  petition  sent 
to  your  committee  on  public  instruction,  I  am  here  to  arouse  the 
national  honour  in  the  cause  of  an  old  foreigner,  an  illustrious 
author,  who,  for  thirty  years,  has  called  France  his  home,  and 
whos.e  talents  and  probity  have  earned  the  esteem  of  Europe. 

1  Andre-Marie  de  Chenier,  guillotined  July  25th,  1794. 
533 


GOLDONI  AND  MOLIERE  533 

Goldoni,  this  wise  author  and  moralist,  whom  Voltaire  has 
styled  the  Moliere  of  Italy,  was  called  to  France  in  1762  by  the 
former  government.  Since  1768  he  has  enjoyed  an  annual  pen- 
sion of  4000  livres;  this  pension,  comprising  his  whole  fortune, 
being  paid  him  during  that  time  from  the  funds  of  the  civil  list. 
Since  last  July  he  has  received  nothing,  and  now  one  of  your  de- 
crees reduces  to  penury  this  octogenarian,  whose  worthy  writings 
have  made  him  deserve  so  well  at  the  hands  of  both  France  and 
Italy.  At  the  age  of  eighty-six,  with  no  other  resource  than  the 
good  heart  of  a  nephew  who  shares  with  him  the  proceeds  of  his 
unremitting  toil,  he  sinks  to  his  grave,  oppressed  by  infirmities 
and  miseries,  yet  blessing  Heaven  that  he  dies  a  Frenchman  and 
a  Republican." 

Goldoni's  republicanism  is  a  matter  of  consider- 
able doubt,  yet  Chenier's  glowing  words  inspired  the 
national  convention  to  the  passage  of  a  bill  decreeing 
that  the  annual  stipend  of  4000  livres,  accorded  him 
in  1768,  should  henceforth  be  paid  him  from  the 
national  treasury.2  By  one  of  those  ironies  that  often 
make  historical  truth  stranger  than  fiction,  Goldoni, 
the  "octogenarian,"  whose  "talents  and  uprightness 
had  earned  the  esteem  of  Europe,"  as  well  as  of  that 
volatile  assembly,  lay  in  his  coffin  at  his  lodgings  in 
the  rue  pavee  Saint- Sauveur  at  the  time  this  action 
was  taken,  Chenier  being  unaware  when  he  made  his 
motion  that  the  man  he  lauded  had  died  in  want  on 
the  previous  day. 

Goldoni's  death  is  not,  however,  a  matter  for  pres- 
ent comment,  but  rather  the  phrase  in  Chenier's 
remarkable  address  in  which  he,  a  devoted  disciple  of 
the  sage  of  Ferney,  speaks  of  Goldoni  as  "this  wise 

2  The  National  Convention  had  already  made  Schiller  a  French  citizen. 


534  GOLDONI 

author  and  moralist  whom  Voltaire  has  styled  the 
Moliere  of  Italy."  For  more  than  a  century  the 
imputation  of  these  words  has  clung  to  Goldoni,  a 
stone  to  drown  him.  Of  all  literary  handicaps,  none 
is  more  burdensome  than  to  be  likened  to  a  dead 
master  whom  the  world  reveres.  In  the  Venetian's 
case,  the  likening  is  justified  by  the  nature  of  his  work 
rather  than  by  the  manner  of  its  accomplishment. 
He  wrote  comedies — five  times  as  many,  indeed,  as 
did  Moliere — but  he  wrote  them  in  a  style  quite  his 
own.  To  call  him  "the  Moliere  of  Italy"  is  unjust  to 
his  originality. 

Although  Chenier  imputes  this  phrase  to  Voltaire, 
no  documentary  evidence  has  yet  been  unearthed  to 
prove  that  the  Apostle  of  Reason  ever  so  styled  Gol- 
doni. Indeed,  Voltaire,  too  shrewd  a  critic  to  be  led 
so  far  afield,  appreciated  more  keenly  than  any  of  his 
contemporaries  the  very  qualities  that  distinguish  the 
genius  of  Goldoni  from  that  of  Moliere. 

The  personal  relations  between  the  "witty,  prof- 
ligate, and  thin"  philosopher  and  the  Italian  master 
of  comedy  date  from  the  year  1760,  when  their  com- 
mon friends,  Albergati  and  Paradisi,  warmly  recom- 
mended Goldoni  to  Voltaire.  This  remarkable 
Frenchman  already  admired  his  Italian  colleague's 
works  so  highly  that,  in  writing  to  Albergati  about 
him,  he  was  constrained  to  say  that,  when  he  read 
his  comedies,  he  loved  his  personality,  Goldoni  being 
truly  "a  good  man,  a  good  character,  wholly  natural, 
wholly  truthful" ;  while  in  another  letter  to  the  same 


GOLDONI  AND  MOLI^RE  535 

correspondent,  after  nominating  Dame  Nature  as 
arbiter  in  the  dispute  between  Goldoni  and  his  ad- 
versaries, Voltaire,  as  will  be  recalled,  put  this  epi- 
gram into  her  mouth: 

Though  every  author  has  his  flaws, 
This  man  Goldoni  pictured  me. 

At  a  later  date,  the  Frenchman  avows  that  "Nature 
was  right  in  saying  that  Goldoni  had  painted  her," 
Voltaire  being  on  this  occasion  "her  secretary";  and 
at  the  same  time  he  declares  that  "the  painter  would 
greatly  honour  the  little  secretary  if  he  would  deign 
to  put  his  name  somewhere."  "He  can  number  me 
among  his  most  ardent  partisans,"  the  philosopher 
adds,  "and  I  should  feel  much  honoured  by  a  small 
place  in  his  catalogue."  Moreover,  in  writing  to 
Goldoni  before  he  had  met  him,  he  announces  him- 
self as  his  "most  outspoken  partisan  and  sincere  ad- 
mirer, and  already  the  best  friend  that  he  has  in 
Framce,"  and  asserts  also  that  Goldoni  has  purified 
the  Italian  stage  and  "snatched  his  country  from  the 
hands  of  the  harlequins,"  his  comedies  being  "Italy 
delivered  from  the  Goths."  "Painter  and  son  of 
nature,"  Voltaire  calls  him  too;  while  on  a  previous 
occasion  he  speaks  of  him  as  the  "child  of  nature," 
and  at  a  later  date  addresses  him  as  "lovable  painter 
of  nature."  Moreover,  he  had  already  declared  to 
Albergati  that  he  had  called  Goldoni  and  should  ever 
call  him  the  "painter  of  nature,"  while  he  addresses 
the  dramatist  himself  as  "my  dear  beloved  of  nature," 


536  GOLDONI 

thereby  showing  his  insight  into  the  Italian's  genius; 
a  fact  further  attested  by  his  statement  to  Goldoni 
himself  that  he  is  always  charmed  by  the  "ease  and 
naturalness  of  his  style." 

Voltaire  was  alive  to  Goldoni's  faults  as  well,  for 
when  the  Venetian  proposed  to  write  another  opera 
bouffe,  he  said  that  "that  sort  of  thing  does  not  seem 
within  his  province."  But  he  appreciated  his  moral 
qualities  no  less  than  his  naturalism,  a  fact  evidenced 
by  his  statement  that  Goldoni's  comedies  "all  end  in 
a  moral  that  recalls  both  the  subject  and  the  plot  of 
the  play,  and  proves  that  this  subject  and  this  plot 
are  designed  to  make  men  wiser  and  better."  Fur- 
thermore, Voltaire  declared  that  The  Beneficent 
Bear  was  written  by  an  Italian  who  was  able  to  give 
models  of  good  taste  to  any  country,  and  that  this 
"comedy  in  the  right  style  written  by  a  foreigner 
marked  an  epoch  in  French  literature."  3 

Although  when  he  visited  him  at  Ferney  in  1760, 
Casanova  4  told  Voltaire  that  he  considered  Goldoni 
the  Moliere  of  Italy,  it  seems  unlikely  that  the  great 
Frenchman  himself  ever  so  distinguished  our  dram- 
atist, Chenier's  words  being  doubtless  spoken,  as 
Giuseppe  Guerzoni  suggests,  "merely  to  touch  the 
hearts  of  his  colleagues  in  the  national  convention, 
which  were  never,  as  we  know,  of  delicate  fibre." 
As  this  author  goes  on  to  say:  "What  is  excusable 

3  Voltaire's   Correspondance:     June   19,   July  21,   September   5   and  24, 
December  23,  1760;  May  10,  November  9,  1763;   May  3,  June  30,  1764; 
March  16,  April  4,  1772. 

4  Memoir es  de  J.  Casanova  de  Seingalt  escrits  par  lui-meme. 


GOLDONI  AND  MOLIERE  537 

in  Chenier  on  such  an  occasion  is  no  longer  so  to  the 
man  who  is  asked  to  pronounce,  not  a  political 
opinion,  but  a  literary  judgment,  these  words,  'Gol- 
doni is  the  Moliere  of  Italy,'  being  so  contrary  to  all 
fact,  biographical,  historical,  literary,  and  dramatic, 
that  they  do  not  even  possess  the  comparative  value  of 
metaphor."  5 

Voltaire  was  too  acute  in  his  judgment  of  Goldoni 
to  have  termed  him  "the  Moliere  of  Italy"  except  in 
a  tone  of  banter.  There  being  no  documentary  evi- 
dence to  confirm  Chenier's  statement  that  he  did  so 
call  him,  the  mistake  of  foisting  this  unwieldy  epithet 
upon  the  "painter  of  nature"  should  with  greater 
verisimilitude  be  attributed  to  Goldoni's  own  coun- 
trymen, who,  in  ridicule  at  least,  had  so  likened  him 
long  before  his  correspondence  with  Voltaire  began. 
Indeed,  as  early  as  1751,  Goldoni,  irritated  by  the 
captious  critics  of  Turin,  who,  at  each  of  his  produc- 
tions, said,  "This  is  good,  but  it  is  not  Moliere,"  pro- 
tests that  it  had  never  entered  his  head  "to  compare 
himself  with  the  French  author."  Continuing,  he 
says: 

5 II  Teatro  Itallano  nel  secolo  XVlll.  In  elucidation  of  this  point 
Professor  E.  Maddalena  of  Vienna,  writes  the  author  of  the  present 
work  as  follows:  "It  does  not  seem  to  me  either,  that  Voltaire  can 
have  called  our  Goldoni  the  Moliere  of  Italy.  M.-J.  Chenier  attributed 
this  definition  to  Voltaire,  thinking  that  he  was  thus  faithfully  summing 
up  the  manifest  opinion  of  the  philosopher  concerning  the  Venetian  play- 
wright. On  this  point  may  be  found  several  questions  and  answers  in 
the  Giornale  degli  eruditi  e  del  curiosi  (1884),  published  at  Padua,  but 
no  conclusion  is  reached."  In  continuation  of  Professor  Maddalena's 
argument  it  may  be  added  that  a  correspondent  of  Cesarotti  (Michel 
Van  Goens),  writing  Feb.  8,  1768,  compares  Goldoni  to  Moliere,  and 
Cesarotti  himself  thus  eulogizes  Goldoni. 


538  GOLDONI 

I  knew  that  those  who  pronounced  this  vague  and  ridiculous 
judgment  merely  went  to  the  theatre  for  the  sake  of  making  the 
circuit  of  the  boxes  and  indulging  in  small  talk.  I  was  acquainted 
with  Moliere  and  respected  this  master  of  the  art  as  highly  as  the 
Piedmontese,  and  I  was  seized  instantly  with  a  desire  to  give  them 
a  convincing  proof  of  it.  I  immediately  composed  a  comedy  in 
five  acts  and  in  verse,  without  masks  or  change  of  scene,  of  which 
the  title  and  principle  subject  were  Moliere  himself. 

It  would  seem  from  the  above  passage  that,  nearly 
ten  years  before  Goldoni  entered  into  correspondence 
with  Voltaire,  his  fellow-countrymen  had  begun  to 
compare  him  with  Moliere,  and  that  he  deprecated 
the  comparison.  As  his  fame  grew  and  they  became 
proud  of  his  achievements,  he,  to  quote  M.  Vaperau, 
"received  from  his  compatriots  the  qualifications  of 
'great'  and  also  of  the  'Italian  Moliere.'  " 6  Of  this 
Goldoni  gives  ample  testimony  himself  when  relating 
how  a  hostess,  "whose  exaggeration  should  be  par- 
doned" because  she  was  "well-bred  and  polite,"  intro- 
duced him  to  a  young  Parisian  blockhead  as  "M. 
Goldoni,  the  Moliere  of  Italy."  That  he  revered  the 
Frenchman  and  realized  his  own  inferiority  to  him 
is  attested  more  than  once  in  his  memoirs.  In  declar- 
ing character  studies  to  be  the  source  of  good  comedy, 
he  says:  "It  is  through  them  that  Moliere  began  his 
career  and  attained  to  a  degree  of  perfection  only 
indicated  by  the  ancients  and  still  unequalled  by  the 
moderns."  When  he  saw  The  Misanthrope  per- 
formed at  the  Comedie  Frangaise,  he  remarked  that 
"luckily  he  knew  the  piece,"  it  being  "the  one  among 

6  Dictionnaire  des  literatures. 


GOLDONI  AND  MOLIERE  539 

Moliere's  works  that  he  most  esteemed."  "It  is  a 
play  of  unequalled  perfection,"  he  adds,  while  ac- 
claiming Moliere  "the  first  comic  author  who  dared 
to  represent  the  manners  and  follies  of  his  own  age 
and  his  own  country."  Witnessing  that  performance 
of  The  Misanthrope,  he  longed  for  the  joy  of  seeing 
one  of  his  own  comedies  played  by  such  artists ;  "yet 
the  best  of  my  plays,"  he  sighed,  "is  not  worth  the 
poorest  of  Moliere's."  His  finest  tribute  to  the  great- 
est of  French  dramatists  is  found,  however,  in  the 
following  lines  from  his  comedy  The  Ball,  wherein 
he  shows  a  keen  appreciation  of  Moliere's  genius, 
truth  being  its  saliency: 

Moliere's  renown  arose,  in  fact,  because 

He  studied  how  the  truth  might  please.     Depicting 

The  French,  he  showed  upon  his  merry  stage 

The  scenes  of  every  day.     Divinities, 

Fine  airs,  and  styles  had  wearied  them;  now,  manners 

And  trenchant  satire  gave  them  greater  joy. 

Italy,  too,  if  she  be  fond  of  change, 

With  greater  reason  should  delight  in  truth 

Whenever  she  discovers  it;  for  that 

Which  pleases  all  and  ever  pleases  must 

Forsooth  endure  throughout  eternity. 

When  speaking  of  those  who  "so  awkwardly  com- 
pare the  Venetian  with  the  French  author,"  Goldoni 
adds  that  this  is  to  compare  "the  pupil  with  the  Mas- 
ter." Again,  in  dedicating  The  Antiquarian's 
Family  to  Federigo  Borromeo,  he  says  that  if  "I 
possessed  Moliere's  wit,  I  would  do  in  Italy  what 
Moliere  did  in  France." 


54o  GOLDONI 

Goldoni  was  not  the  pupil  of  Moliere,  nor  was  the 
best  of  his  plays  inferior  to  the  poorest  of  the  French- 
man's ;  still  there  are  points  of  similarity  between  the 
two  which  should  not  be  entirely  overlooked.  Both 
learned  their  technic  in  the  same  school — the  Impro- 
vised Comedy  of  Italy.  By  discarding  the  stereo- 
typed characters  and  farcical  intrigues  of  that  comedy 
for  true  characterization  and  human  situations,  each 
created  a  national  comedy  of  manners.  Bearing  in 
mind  the  nuance  that  distinguishes  naturalism  from 
realism,  a  modern  shade  of  meaning  that  makes  real- 
ism the  broader  art,  because,  though  painting  life  as 
the  artist  sees  it,  it  is  suggestive,  as  well, — naturalism 
being  no  more  than  the  accurate  portrayal  of  that 
which  actually  lies  within  the  artist's  vision — it  may 
be  said  that  Moliere  was  a  realist  and  Goldoni  a 
naturalist,  the  Frenchman  seeing  further,  though  no 
more  faithfully,  in  his  presentation  of  humanity  than 
the  Italian.  This  is  true  certainly  of  the  greatest 
efforts  of  both  poets.  Goldoni's  Venetian  comedies 
are  true  pictures  of  the  life  of  the  people,  yet  no 
philosophy  underlies  their  faithful  humour.  On  the 
other  hand,  Moliere's  portrayals  of  French  society 
present  side  by  side  with  what  their  author  terms 
"ridiculous  likenesses,"  his  love  of  truth  and  his  im- 
placable enmity  to  imposture  and  formalism.  No- 
where does  Goldoni  poise  his  lance  and  ride  in  battle 
array  against  the  vices  and  foibles  of  his  time.  In- 
stead of  making  them  an  issue,  he  is  content  to  point 
his  finger. 


GOLDONI  AND  MOLI^RE  541 

As  coincidence  it  may  be  noted  that  both  drama- 
tists attended  for  a  time  a  school  taught  by  Jesuits, 
and  that  both  studied  law,  although  Goldoni  alone 
practised  at  the  bar.  Moreover,  each  of  these  mas- 
ters of  comedy,  when  harassed  by  the  critics  of  his 
day,  defended  his  art  by  a  dramatic  skit,  Moliere's 
being  styled  The  Criticism  of  the  School  for  Wives 
(La  Critique  de  I'Ecole  des  femmes),  and  Goldoni's 
The  Comic  Theatre,  each  being  a  dialogue  rather 
than  a  play,  in  which  its  author  sets  forth  his  theories 
of  dramatic  art.  Moreover,  in  The  Versailles  Im- 
promptu, Moliere  presented  a  picture  of  life  behind 
the  scenes,  proclaiming  therein  his  histrionic  creed, 
while  in  Goldoni's  Comic  Theatre  an  experienced 
comedian  instructs  a  novice  in  the  art  of  acting.7 
Goldoni,  therefore,  in  a  single  play  emulates  two  of 
Moliere's,  if  indeed  the  disjointed  Comic  Theatre 
may  be  termed  a  play;  for  while  Moliere  in  The 
Criticism  of  the  School  for  Wives  presents  a  fairly 
well  rounded  comedy,  Goldoni's  polemic,  une 
poetlque  mlse  en  action,  as  he  styles  it,  is  nothing 
more  than  a  series  of  scenes,  lacking  in  coherence 
and  presenting  neither  a  real  conflict  nor  its  solu- 
tion.8 

7  Shakespeare's  charge  to  the  players  in  Hamlet,  Moliere's  talk  to  his 
players   in  L'Impromptu  de  Versailles  and  Goldoni's   dialogue  between 
an  experienced  actor  and  an  inexperienced  actress  in  //   Teatro  comico, 
show  that  the   histrionic  creeds   of  these  masters   of   dramatic   art  were 
similar,    simplicity   and   fidelity  to   nature,    as   opposed   to   the   prevalent 
fustian,  being  their  tenets. 

8  In   three   scenes   of    The   Ball    (II  Festino)—Act  I,   scene    5;    act   II, 
scene  13;  and  act  V,  scene  5 — Goldoni  also  defends  his  own  work  after 
the  manner  employed  by  Moliere  in  La  Critique  de  L'Ecole  des  femmes. 


542  GOLDONI 

Although  the  coincidences  in  the  lives  of  Moliere 
and  Goldoni  that  have  been  noted  establish  a  casual 
relationship  between  the  two  authors,  these  occur- 
rences are  merely  fortuitous.  It  is  in  their  treatment 
of  similar  subjects  that  the  closest  agreement  be- 
tween them  lies.  Here  Goldoni  trespasses  on  Mo- 
liere's  preserves  and,  poacher  that  he  is,  presents  but 
a  sorry  figure;  The  Punctilious  Ladies  (Le  Femmine 
puntigliose)  alone  among  the  dozen  or  more  of  his 
comedies,  the  plots  or  principal  characters  of  which 
are  borrowed  from  Moliere,  being  in  any  degree 
equal  to  the  inspiration. 

Although  in  these  instances  Goldoni  is  manifestly 
a  plagiarist,  he  is  no  such  master  of  the  art  as  the 
man  from  whom  he  plagiarizes,  for,  unlike  Moliere, 
his  polishing  never  enhances  the  value  of  the  gems  he 
has  purloined.  On  the  contrary,  in  his  endeavours 
to  adapt  them  to  his  own  uses,  he  destroys  also  much 
of  their  brilliancy.  At  home  in  the  campielli  of  his 
native  Venice,  Goldoni's  genius  goes  astray  in  for- 
eign parts,  his  forte  lying  in  the  painting  of  his 
countrymen  in  their  true  colours,  his  folly  in  the 
imitation  of  great  men  such  as  Moliere.  When  un- 
hampered by  laborious  study  of  other  masters,  he 
became  the  painter  of  nature  Voltaire  acclaimed  him, 
for  in  his  comedies  of  the  Venetian  people  there  is 
luckily  no  touch  of  Moliere  nor  of  any  other  drama- 
tist of  the  past.  Here  we  find  him  lisping  the  soft 
speech  of  Venice,  while  portraying  in  a  lifelike  way 
the  men  and  women  of  her  streets.  No  need  has  he 


GOLDONI  AND  MOLIERE  543 

to  borrow  characters  or  plots,  the  people  of  Venice 
and  their  doings  supplying  him  with  material,  and 
to  spare.  Being  so  fecund  and  original  it  is  a  pity 
he  was  ever  tempted  into  poaching  upon  another 
man's  preserves ;  yet  having  wrought  clumsily  a  score 
or  more  of  Moliere's  plots  and  characters  into  com- 
edies neither  French  nor  Italian,  he  courts  compari- 
son with  the  master,  and  becomes  to  those  who  know 
him  least,  the  Moliere  of  Italy.  Being  the  most 
natural  of  Italy's  mirthful  sons,  it  is  wrong  to  com- 
pare him  with  the  soul  of  Gallic  wit;  yet  having 
wilfully  trespassed  on  French  soil,  it  is  but  just  that 
he  should  be  arraigned. 

"I  was  born  peaceful,"  he  says,  "and  have  always 
preserved  my  coolness  of  character,"  a  statement 
that  accounts  for  his  failure  to  answer  his  enemies  in 
The  Comic  Theatre  with  the  stinging  irony  Moliere 
uses  in  The  Criticism  of  the  School  for  Wives  and 
The  Versailles  Impromptu;  it  accounts,  too,  in  con- 
siderable degree,  for  the  forgiving  and  peace-loving 
character  presented  as  Moliere  in  the  comedy  that 
bears  his  name  (II  Moliere),  this  creation  being  a 
subjective  Goldoni,  quite  as  much  as  an  objective 
Moliere.  This  five-act  comedy  in  verse,  presented  at 
Turin  at  a  time  (1751)  when  Goldoni  was  being 
attacked  for  not  emulating  Moliere,  tells  between 
its  lines  the  story  of  its  author's  literary  heart-burn- 
ings. Though  ostensibly  characterizing  the  great- 
est of  French  dramatists,  in  accordance  with  the 
picture  presented  of  him  in  the  Sieur  de  Grimarest's 


544  GOLDONI 

gossipy  biography,9  this  play  is  in  reality  Goldoni's 
answer  to  his  critics,  the  following  passage,  for 
instance,  being  his  own  apology  for  working  at 
fever-heat  to  please  the  multitude,  rather  than  the 
plea  of  his  protagonist,  who  sometimes  spent  a  year 
upon  a  single  play,  until  its  verse  was  indeed 
"adorned  with  lofty  melody": 

'Gainst  captious  friends,  curt  silence  I  array. 
Uneven  is  my  style,  I  trow;  yet  chance 
Is  not  the  cause.     To  artisans  I  speak, 
And  to  the  nobly  born  as  well,  with  each 
His  tongue  employing.     In  such  variety 
Of  style,  one  scene  the  man  of  elegance 
Will  please,  mayhap;  anpther  overjoy 
The  populace.     If  glory  were  my  aim, 
And  not  to  win  the  multitude,  with  care 
Enough  and  ample  time,  perchance  I  might 
Adorn  my  verse  with  lofty  melody. 

Mollere  tells  a  double  story,  the  opposition  to  the 
great  dramatist's  marriage  with  Armande  Bejart 
(here  called  Isabelle)  on  the  part  of  jealous  Made- 
leine Bejart,  ending  in  a  victory  for  youth,  and  the 
triumph  of  the  dramatist  over  his  enemies  on  the 
occasion  of  the  first  public  performance  of  The 
Hypocrite  (Le  Tartuffe),  two  events  in  no  way  con- 
temporaneous, yet  justified  in  being  made  so  by  poetic 
licence.  Moliere's  comrade,  Michel  Baron,  appears 
under  the  name  of  Valere,  and  Chapelle,  the  drama- 
tist's lifelong  friend,  as  Leandre;  moreover,  Goldoni 
courts  a  comparison  with  Moliere  little  short  of 

9  La  Vie  de  M.  de  Molttre,  by  J.  L.  Le  Gallois,  Sieur  de  Grimarest. 


GOLDONI  AND  MOLIERE  545 

odious  by  the  introduction  of  Pirlone,  a  character 
with  the  attributes,  but  not  the  acumen  of  Tartuffe,10 
a  whimpering,  cringing  hypocrite,  who  only  serves 
to  demonstrate  how  ill  at  ease  the  Italian  is  when 
upon  the  great  Frenchman's  own  ground.  Mollere 
is  by  no  means  a  bad  play,  indeed  it  is  superior  to 
the  one  by  George  Sand  upon  the  same  subject;  yet 
in  courting  comparison  with  the  most  virile  master- 
piece of  the  great  Frenchman  it  attempts  to  portray, 
it  becomes  bad,  Pirlone  being  an  abject  Tartuffe, 
clumsily  imitated,  and  the  Bejart  women,  the  one  a 
termagant,  the  other  a  simpering  coquette. 

There  is  such  affinity,  however,  between  men  of 
letters  that  Goldoni's  subjectivity,  whether  conscious 
or  unconscious,  places  on  Moliere's  lips  many  an 
expression  befitting  his  character,  as  for  instance  this 
passage,  in  which  the  rapture  of  literary  success  is 
expressed  at  the  moment  when  Moliere's  Hypocrite 
has  triumphed  upon  the  stage : 

What  ecstasy  successful  authors  feel! 
Fatigues  endured!     Chill  perspiration  shed! 
(To  La  Bejart,  who  would  interrupt) 
In  peace,  the  joy  that  fills  my  soul,  pray  let 
Me  drink,  alone,  content.     To  all  who  sought 
To  harass  me,  full  pardon  I  extend; 
My  joy  is  therefore  sweeter,  more  sincere. 
With  happy  augury  and  generous  wish 
Around  me  press  both  enemies  and  friends, 
Since  those  who  once  despised  Tartuffe  to  his 
Esteem  are  won  by  popular  applause; 

10Pancrazio  in  /  Due  gemelli  veneziani  is  another  hypocritical  char- 
acter with  the  attributes  of  Tartuffe. 


546  GOLDONI 

So  true  it  is  that  men  to  the  event  incline 
As  do  the  golden  wheat-sheaves  to  the  wind. 

Although  in  this  play  Goldoni  often  speaks  ex- 
cathedra,  the  gloominess  and  irascibility  of  Moliere's 
nature  are  well  indicated,  together  with  his  keen- 
ness and  sureness  of  observation,  his  perseverance, 
moral  earnestness,  and  unquenchable  enmity  to  cant, 
things  either  foreign  to  Goldoni  himself  or  less 
clearly  developed  in  him  than  in  the  Frenchman  he 
is  portraying;  therefore,  Moliere,  in  spite  of  the 
Goldoni  in  him,  is  a  creditable  characterization. 
The  Italian  author  is  on  alien  soil,  however;  hence 
this  play  is  at  best  but  an  acceptable  presentation  of 
a  subject  foreign  to  his  genius. 

In  his  treatment  of  the  Don  Juan  legend,  Goldoni 
again  courts  comparison  with  Moliere  and  is  dwarfed 
by  him,  his  libertine  being  not  a  grand  seigneur, 
representative  of  a  caste  and  an  age  such  as  the 
Frenchman  depicted,  but  rather  a  cowardly  seducer 
and  a  debauchee,  besotted  by  excess.  The  vices  of 
Moliere's  Don  Juan  are  tempered  by  a  courage  that 
wins  reluctant  admiration;  the  poltroonery  of  Gol- 
doni's  seducer  in  the  face  of  death  loses  for  him  the 
last  vestige  of  our  pity.  Moliere's  Don  Juan,  de- 
fiantly following  to  his  final  doom  the  animated 
statue  of  the  man  he  has  both  wronged  and  murdered, 
is  the  same  proud,  vicious  nobleman  of  France  who 
a  generation  later  bravely  mounted  the  steps  of  the 
guillotine  with  a  sneer  for  the  canaille  on  his  haughty 
lip,  while  Goldoni's  Don  Giovanni,  though  "natural 


GOLDONI  AND  MOLIERE  547 

and  not  supernatural,"  as  his  author  describes  him, 
is  but  a  village  rake. 

In  all  justice  it  should  be  said  that  he  was  con- 
ceived at  an  early  period  of  Goldoni's  career,  Don 
Juan  Tenorio;  or,  The  Debauchee  (Don  Giovanni 
Tenorio,  o  sia  II  Dissolute),  having  been  presented 
to  the  public  of  Venice  during  the  carnival  of  1736, 
when  the  dramatist  was  only  twenty-nine  years  old 
and  had  not  yet  developed  his  naturalistic  talent. 
Although  this  comedy  ostensibly  presents  Goldoni's 
version  of  a  Spanish  legend  n  which  had  already 
been  treated  by  a  number  of  authors,  including 
Cicognini  and  Perrucci  in  Italy,  Moliere  in  France, 
and  Shadwell  in  England,  in  reality  it  was  written 
for  the  purpose  of  revenge  upon  La  Passalacqua,  the 
actress,  who,  it  will  be  recalled,  played  fast  and  loose 
with  Goldoni's  young  affections  by  deserting  him  for 
Vitalba,  a  Thespian.  / 

In  a  scene  wherein  Elisa,  a  shepherdess,  is  sur- 
prised by  Carino,  her  faithful  swain,  in  the  company 
of  Don  Giovanni,  Elisa  speaks  the  actual  words 
La  Passalacqua  used  to  exculpate  herself  when  Gol- 
doni  discovered  her  in  Vitalba's  arms,  the  name 
Carino  bestowed  upon  the  injured  shepherd  being 
Carlino,  the  diminutive  of  Carlo,  the  author's  own 
Christian  name,  minus  a  single  letter.  Here  Gol- 
doni  appears  inferior  to  Moliere  in  gentlemanly  in- 

11  El  Burlador  de  Sevilla  y  convldado  de  piedra,  commonly  attributed 
to  Tirso  de  Molina;  the  original  Spanish  play  in  which  this  legend  is 
first  put  upon  the  stage,  was  produced  early  in  the  eighteenth  century, 
Don  Juan  Tenorio  being  the  name  of  its  protagonist. 


548  GOLDONI 

stinct,  for  although  the  Frenchman  is  believed  by 
many  to  have  revealed  the  sufferings  of  his  own  heart 
in  several  instances,  in  order  to  uphold  this  conten- 
tion it  becomes  necessary  to  read  assiduously  between 
his  lines ;  whereas  Goldoni  paraded  his  questionable 
amour  openly,  an  offence  against  good  taste,  pardon- 
able perhaps  on  the  score  of  youth  had  he  not  at  a 
ripe  age  flaunted  it  again  in  the  pages  of  his  memoirs. 

But  Goldoni's  character  is  as  different  from  Mo- 
liere's  as  his  genius  is  foreign  to  the  Frenchman's. 
The  one  was  light-hearted  by  nature  and  never  over- 
borne by  sorrow  or  misfortune,  the  other  as  serious 
and  morose  at  times  as  Alceste,  his  misanthrope, 
Moliere's  views,  like  his  experiences,  being  deeper 
and  farther  reaching  than  those  of  his  transalpine 
rival.  Yet  both  were  at  heart  optimists,  else  they 
could  not  have  expressed  themselves  best  in  comedy. 
There  is  a  serious  phase  in  Moliere's  work,  however, 
indicative  of  the  tragedy  he  lived, — a  sadder  note 
than  is  ever  sounded  by  genial  Goldoni,  whose  life, 
save  in  its  last  moments,  was  a  continuous  comedy. 

Nowhere  in  the  coincidental  work  of  these  two 
geniuses  are  the  temperamental  differences  in  their 
natures  so  marked  as  in  their  presentment  of  avarice, 
a  subject  Moliere  treated  in  his  immortal  comedy, 
The  Miser  (L'Avare),  and  Goldoni  on  five  occa- 
sions. In  not  a  single  instance,  however,  does  the 
Italian  clothe  avarice  with  attributes  at  once  com- 
passionate and  contemptible,  his  misers  being  but 
stage  puppets  set  up  to  be  laughed  at,  whereas 


GOLDONI  AND  MOLI^RE  549 

Moliere's  Harpagon,  in  spite  of  his  farcical  conduct, 
is  a  believable  human  creature,  who,  though  debased 
by  love  of  gold,  is  sympathetic  as  well  as  odious. 
In  the  scene  where  he  discovers  the  loss  of  his  trea- 
sure, he  is  no  longer  the  laughing-stock  of  an  amus- 
ing farce,  but  the  pitiful  victim  of  a  corroding  vice, 
made  tragic  by  truth  to  human  nature. 

Among  Goldoni's  avaricious  characters  Harpa- 
gon's  nearest  emulation  is  found  in  Ottavio,  the 
miser  of  The  True  Friend  (II  Vero  amico).  Be- 
sides following  Moliere  and  Plautus  scrupulously  \ 
in  the  presentment  of  a  niggardly  father  who  buries 
his  treasure  only  to  have  it  fall  into  the  hands  of 
his  offspring,  Goldoni  presents  in  this  play  the  senti- 
mental story  of  a  lachrymose  hero,  who  sacrifices  his 
love  on  the  altar  of  friendship.  Ottavio,  however, 
the  father  of  the  girl,  whom  the  hero  loves  but  dare 
not  win  because  she  is  affianced  to  his  friend,  is  but 
Harpagon  in  an  ill-fitting  garment.  Though  he 
conceals  his  treasure  in  a  well  instead  of  in  a  garden, 
and  for  the  sentimental  purpose  of  his  author  dies 
conveniently  of  grief  on  discovering  the  loss  of  it, 
he  is  merely  a  grotesque  puppet,  in  no  wise  so  human 
as  his  masterly  prototype. 

In  speaking  of  The  Miser  (L'Avaro),  a  one-act 
prose  comedy  in  which  he  again  treats  avarice,  Gol- 
doni remarks  that  "its  title  indicates  one  of  those 
characters  which  seems  to  have  been  worn  thread- 
bare by  the  masters  of  the  art."  He  adds,  however, 
that  "his  is  a  new  kind  of  miser,  who  is  not  worth  the 


550  GOLDONI 

others,"  a  criticism  likewise  applicable  to  his  other 
victims  of  "the  good  old  gentlemanly  vice  of  ava- 
rice," to  wit,  Pantalone,  in  The  Jealous  Miser;  Cha- 
teaudor,  in  The  Ostentatious  Miser;  and  Don  Pro- 
perzio,  in  The  Contriving  Woman;  they  being 
characters  a  discussion  of  whose  merits  seems  idle, 
since  they  are  in  no  respect  "worth"  the  misers  of 
either  of  those  masters  of  the  art  of  comedy,  Plautus 
and  Moliere. 

Although  in  several  of  his  comedies  Moliere  held 
the  empiric  doctors  of  his  day  up  to  scorn  and  mock- 
ery, Goldoni  seeks  to  emulate  him  only  in  The 
Feigned  Invalid  (La  Flnta  ammalata),  a  comedy 
frankly  imitated  from  Moliere's  Love  as  a  Doctor 
(Lf Amour  medecln)f  yet  lacking  in  the  trenchant 
satire  of  the  original.  Indeed,  Goldoni  takes  the 
French  master  to  task  for  having  caricatured  medi- 
cine too  severely.  The  fact  that  his  own  father  had 
been  a  medical  man  should  perhaps  excuse  our 
Venetian  for  the  gingerly  manner  in  which  he  satir- 
izes the  faculty;  the  introduction  in  this  play  of  a 
physician  "at  once  wise  and  gentlemanly,"  to  serve 
as  an  honest  counterfoil  for  a  charlatan  and  an  obse- 
quious ignoramus,  being  made  in  order  to  uphold 
the  tenets  of  a  profession  in  the  efficacy  and  worthi- 
ness of  which  Goldoni,  unlike  his  great  predecessor, 
manifestly  believed.  His  play  thereby  becomes  a 
tract  instead  of  a  satire,  thus  losing  its  right  to  serious 
dramatic  consideration.  Together  with  the  com- 
edies dealing  with  avarice,  it  may  be  dismissed  as 


GOLDONI  AND  MOLIERE  551 

not  "worth"  those  of  Moliere,  Goldoni's  power  lying 
in  good  humour  and  naturalistic  portraiture,  not  in 
caustic  satire  such  as  the  French  master  employed 
against  the  doctors  who  had  proved  themselves  so 
incapable  in  his  own  regard. 

Although  there  are  traces  of  Moliere's  influence 
in  other  Goldonian  comedies,  so  slight  and  unim- 
portant are  they  that  to  draw  further  comparisons 
here  seems  futile,  since  to  do  so  would  merely  necessi- 
tate calling  further  attention  to  the  inferiority  of  Gol- 
doni  to  Moliere  whenever  he  trespasses  upon  the 
master's  soil.  In  one  comedy,  however,  the  Venetian, 
while  challenging  direct  comparison  with  Moliere,  is 
not  utterly  dwarfed  by  him,  the  single  instance  being 
The  Punctilious  Ladies  (Le  Femmine  puntigliose), 
a  play  suggestive  of  The  Burgher  a  Gentleman  (Le 
Bourgeois  gentilhomme)  in  that  it  treats  of  social 
climbing. 

So  humorous  a  character  is  Monsieur  Jourdain, 
the  titular  role  of  Moliere's  comedy,  that  we  are 
likely  to  overlook  his  inconsistencies,  as  well  as  the 
loose-jointed  construction  of  the  play  in  which  he 
appears.  Monsieur  Jourdain,  moreover,  is  made  to 
play  a  part  inconsistent  with  the  shrewdness  whereby 
he  has  amassed  his  fortune;  certainly,  no  sane  man 
would  be  imposed  upon  by  the  ridiculous  Mama- 
mouchi  ceremony.  Therefore,  although  Monsieur 
Jourdain  has  been  accepted  universally  as  emble- 
matical of  social  climbing,  he  is  an  emblem  rather 
than  a  naturally  drawn  character;  for,  laughable 


552  GOLDONI 

though  he  is  upon  the  stage,  in  real  life  his  family 
would  petition  the  authorities  to  commit  him  to  a 
madhouse. 

The  French  arriviste,  to  be  sure,  is  a  masculine 
type,  and  male  snobs  are  to  be  found  the  world  over; 
yet  to  typify  the  class  that  is  elbowing  its  way  into 
society  wherever  it  exists,  a  woman  rather  than  a 
man  should  be  chosen,  society  being  a  feminine 
oligarchy  in  which  the  voice  of  man  is  raised  but 
futilely,  his  function  therein  being  to  pay  attentions, 
as  well  as  pay  milliners'  bills,  but  not  to  legislate. 
In  selecting  a  socially  ambitious  woman  from  the 
provinces  as  his  protagonist,  rather  than  a  metro- 
politan shopkeeper,  whose  very  calling  should  have 
taught  him  that  the  bridging  of  class  distinctions  is 
almost  impossible,  Goldoni,  in  this  instance,  shows 
a  truer  insight  into  cosmopolitan  life  than  does 
Moliere.  Nor  is  he  led  away  from  a  true  comedy 
theme  by  any  vulgar  descent  into  fantastic  farce,  such 
as  the  Frenchman  made  in  order  to  regale  his  King 
with  oriental  mummery.  On  the  contrary,  the 
Venetian  draws  a  true  picture  of  the  society  of  his 
time,  The  Punctilious  Ladies,  or,  to  give  it  a  more 
modern  significance,  The  Smart  Women,  being  a 
comedy  of  manners  so  lifelike  that  with  slight  alter- 
ation it  might  pass  current  as  a  representation  of 
modern  social  life. 

The  heroine,  Donna  Rosaura,  the  daughter  of  a 
rich  provincial  merchant,  comes  to  Palermo  with  her 
doting  husband  and  her  ill-trained  servants,  resolved 


GOLDONI  AND  MOLIERE  553 

to  cut  a  dash  in  metropolitan  society  and  be  able  to 
tell  her  friends  at  CastelP  a  Mare  that  in  Palermo 
she  was  received  in  the  best  society.  When  the  play 
opens,  her  irons  are  already  in  the  fire,  Count  Lelio, 
an  impecunious  young  nobleman,  having  promised 
to  get  her  an  introduction  to  Countess  Beatrice,  the 
queen  of  Palermo  society,  of  whom  he  is  the  cicisbeo. 
The  means  by  which  many  a  modern  parvenue  el- 
bows her  way  into  "smart"  circles  are  so  cleverly 
set  forth  that  it  is  difficult  not  to  read  London  or 
Paris  for  the  eighteenth-century  Palermo  of  the 
text,  social  promotion  being  apparently  as  flourishing 
a  trade  in  Goldoni's  time  as  in  our  own. 

The  social  promoter  of  to-day  deftly  arranges  a 
game  of  "auction"  at  which  he,  or  she,  plays  with 
the  lady  seeking  an  entree  into  the  charmed  circle. 
In  order  that  their  opponents,  among  whom  is  the 
reigning  queen  of  society,  may  win,  both  overbid 
their  hands,  the  climber  of  course  paying  her  part- 
ner's losses.  In  the  plucking  of  Donna  Rosaura,  a 
wager  takes  the  place  of  "auction,"  she  being  coached 
by  Count  Lelio  to  bet  with  Countess  Beatrice  that 
it  is  ten  o'clock  when  it  is  eleven.  Receiving  a 
jewelled  watch  as  his  fee,  Lelio  presents  the  countess 
to  his  humble  client;  but  when  the  noble  visitor  as- 
serts that  it  is  eleven  o'clock,  Donna  Rosaura  is  so 
over-awed  by  her  august  guest  that,  forgetting  the 
wager  she  has  been  coached  to  make,  she  humbly 
admits  the  countess's  infallibility.  Count  Lelio  is 
obliged  to  nudge  her,  and  lead  the  conversation  back 


554  GOLDONI 

into  appropriate  channels,  until  Donna  Rosaura  has 
the  wit  to  lay  a  hundred  dopple  that  it  is  noon  at 
eleven  o'clock,  the  proceeds  of  which  factitious  bet 
the  countess  pockets;  whereupon  she  deigns  to  ask 
Donna  Rosaura  to  attend  a  conversazione,  though 
she  scorns  to  include  in  her  invitation  Don  Florindo, 
the  climber's  doting  husband. 

This  man  is  uxorious,  a  failing  which  Pantalone, 
his  dead  father's  friend,  thus  seeks  to  eradicate : 

It  is  well  to  love  your  wife,  but  not  to  your  own  ruin.  A 
husband  who  loves  his  wife  too  much  and  is  blinded  by  his  love 
and  led  by  it,  is  in  a  worse  state  than  one  who  is  infatuated  with 
a  mistress.  Fascinating  though  she  may  be,  it  is  always  possible 
to  free  oneself  from  a  mistress,  but  a  wife  yielded  to  at  the  begin- 
ning must  be  suffered  perforce.  If  the  mistress,  to  keep  her  pro- 
tector's love,  sometimes  submits  to  it,  the  wife,  conscious  of  her 
own  dominion  over  her  husband's  heart,  commands,  demands,  and 
expects,  until  the  poor  man  is  obliged  to  yield  to  force  what  once 
he  yielded  too  readily  to  love. 

Being  asked  how  a  wife  may  be  made  tractable 
against  her  will,  this  practical  man  of  affairs  sug- 
gests a  beating,  whereupon  the  horrified  husband 
asks  him  if  under  similar  circumstances  he  would 
beat  his  own  wife.  "For  the  sake  of  appearances," 
he  says,  "I  should  beat  her  in  a  locked  room  without 
any  one's  knowing  about  it,  but  I  should  beat  her." 

While  weak  Don  Florindo  is  being  thus  admon- 
ished by  this  most  sophisticated  of  all  Goldoni's 
Pantalones,  his  ambitious  wife  is  making  her  first 
appearance  in  fashionable  circles.  Meeting  at  the 
Countess  Beatrice's  two  other  countesses,  she  sees 


GOLDONI  AND  MOLIERE  555 

their  noses  tilt  haughtily  upward  when  they  learn 
that  she  is  a  shopkeeper's  daughter,  though  their 
swains  are  polite  to  her,  as  men  usually  are  in  such 
circumstances. 

After  publicly  snubbing  the  upstart,  these  punc- 
tilious ladies  resolve  to  pay  her  a  surreptitious  visit, 
each  for  her  own  ends.  The  first  to  present  herself 
is  the  Countess  Clarice,  her  object  being  to  get  a 
bargain  in  silk  from  among  the  three  pieces  Rosaura 
has  brought  to  Palermo  to  be  made  into  gowns  by  a 
smart  dressmaker.  But  when  the  haughty  visitor 
learns  that  the  silk  is  of  Venetian  manufacture,  she 
scorns  it  utterly,  since  "to  be  pretty,  silk  must  be 
made  in  France";  whereupon  her  parvenue  hostess 
gives  ex-cathedra  utterance  to  the  following  speech 
in  which  "America"  may  be  substituted  for  the  word 
"Italy,"  with  profit  to  our  own  countrywomen: 

Alas,  countess,  opinion  governs.  They  know  how  to  work  in 
Italy  just  as  well  as  they  do  in  France;  yet  we  women  make  it 
a  point  of  honour  to  insist  that  foreign  goods  are  better  than  Ital- 
ian, and  if  our  workmen  wish  to  sell  their  products  successfully, 
they  must  pretend  they  are  made  in  France.  Thus  sacrificing  to 
greater  profits  its  self-esteem,  poor  Italy  discredits  itself  through 
the  false  sentiments  of  Italians  themselves! 

Unmoved  by  this  patriotic  outburst,  Countess 
Clarice  departs  abruptly,  and  meets  at  the  door  her 
friend  Countess  Eleonora,  to  whom  she  explains  her 
call  by  saying  that  she  has  been  to  the  little  shop- 
keeper's to  buy  gold  brocade,  the  Countess  Eleonora 
replying  that  her  aim  is  to  purchase  Holland  cloth. 


556  GOLDONI 

Being  left  waiting  at  the  door  while  Brighella,  the 
servant,  repeats  this  conversation  to  his  mistress, 
Countess  Eleonora  departs  in  a  huff;  whereupon 
Donna  Rosaura,  undaunted  by  the  snubs  she  has 
already  received,  sends  Brighella  in  hot  pursuit  with 
her  apologies;  a  new  source  of  offence,  since  in  the 
punctilious  world  to  which  the  countess  belongs  no 
lady  may  be  waylaid  by  a  footman. 

To  be  received  in  society,  Donna  Rosaura  is  pre- 
pared to  suffer  any  affront,  yet  the  only  house  she 
enters  is  opened  by  a  hundred  doppie.  To  win  her 
social  sponsor's  gormandizing  husband  to  her  cause, 
she  invites  him  to  partake  of  the  pheasants  and 
partridges  she  has  received  from  her  place  in  the 
country,  and  when  he  is  assured  that  her  purse  will 
pay  for  the  supper,  he  compels  his  wife  to  give  a 
dance  in  her  honour.  Yet  the  very  occasion  that 
should  have  been  this  little  climber's  making  proves 
her  undoing,  Countess  Eleonora  having  vowed  ven- 
geance for  the  affront  of  having  been  kept  waiting 
at  her  door. 

The  following  scene  in  which  this  punctilious  lady 
and  her  friends  humiliate  Donna  Rosaura  displays 
GoldonPs  deft  stagecraft,  learned  in  the  school  of 
The  Improvised  Comedy.  The  place  is  an  illu- 
minated ball-room,  in  which  Countess  Beatrice, 
Count  Onofrio,  her  husband,  and  Count  Lelio,  her 
cicisbeo,  are  awaiting  the  guests,  the  music  having 
already  begun  to  play  an  overture. 


GOLDONI  AND  MOLIERE  557 

Enter  Countess  Clarice  attended  by  a  supernumerary  gentleman. 
Two  more  super  ladies  and  gentlemen.  Beatrice  advances  to 
receive  the  ladies,  who  enter  on  the  arms  of  their  escorts.  When 
they  have  entered,  Beatrice  seats  the  three  ladies  at  centre,  the 
gentlemen  at  right  and  left  conversing  together.  Lelio  sits  apart, 
and  Beatrice,  after  having  paid  her  compliments  to  the  ladies,  sits 
by  Lelio.  The  overture  continues;  enter  meanwhile  Rosaura  and 
Florindo.  Beatrice  arises,  goes  to  receive  her,  seats  her  near 
Clarice,  and  returns  to  Lelio.  Florindo  joins  the  gentlemen. 
Clarice  and  the  two  ladies  bow  coldly  to  Rosaura  and  continue 
whispering  together.  Soon  Clarice  arises,  and  approaching  Bea- 
trice, pretends  to  talk  with  her ;  the  other  two  ladies  rise,  approach 
Clarice,  and  leaving  Rosaura  alone,  speak  in  whispers  with  Clarice. 
Florindo  rises  to  speak  to  Rosaura,  but  she  angrily  repulses  him 
and  he  returns  to  his  seat.  Enter  Countess  Eleonora  and  Count 
Ottavio.  Beatrice  arises,  goes  to  meet  her,  and  leads  her  toward 
the  seat  beside  Rosaura,  speaking  low  to  her;  Rosaura  shakes  her 
head.  Enter  a  dancing-master,  who  stops  the  overture  and  orders 
a  minuet.  Musicians  play.  At  Beatrice's  command,  the  dancing- 
master  takes  Rosaura  and  begins  the  minuet  with  her.  While 
Rosaura  dances,  exeunt  the  ladies  one  by  one,  the  gentlemen  fol- 
lowing their  ladies.  Lelio,  to  halt  them,  rises  and  follows  them. 
Rosaura,  seeing  all  the  guests  leave  before  the  minuet  has  ended, 
turns  angrily  upon  Beatrice,  who  flies  into  a  rage.  Musicians 
stop  playing. 

Here  occurs  the  first  written  dialogue,  the  above 
being  acted  in  pantomime,  or,  perhaps,  with  impro- 
vised dialogue: 

ROSAURA 

What!  such  an  insult  to  me! 

BEATRICE 

The  insult  is  to  me,  and  I  receive  it  on  account  of  you. 


558  GOLDONI 

FLORINDO 

(Aside  to  Rosaura)  Let  us  go,  let  us  go ;  I  shall  make  them  an- 
swer to  me. 

BEATRICE 

Confound  the  day  I  met  you. 

ROSAURA 

From  a  woman  of  your  sort,  nothing  better  could  be  expected. 

Not  to  dwell  too  long  upon  Donna  Rosaura's 
heart-burnings,  let  it  be  said  that,  having  packed  her 
trunks  for  CastelP  a  Mare  and  loaded  her  servants 
and  her  husband  in  her  travelling  coach,  she,  while 
the  postilion  cracks  his  whip  outside,  forces  herself 
into  Countess  Eleonora's  house  in  the  midst  of  a 
conversazione  and  plays  this  final  card  of  revenge: 

I  thank  you  ladies  for  your  kindness.  I  thank  you  for  the 
civility  some  of  you  have  deigned  to  show  me  in  private,  as  well 
as  for  the  permission  given  me  to  make  this  final  statement  in 
public.  In  flattering  myself  that  I  might  be  admitted  into  your 
circle,  I  confess  that  I  aimed  too  high.  Yet,  in  order  that  the 
explanation  I  shall  make  of  the  motives  inspiring  this  longing  on 
my  part  may  be  understood,  pray  remember,  in  the  first  place,  that 
I  was  brought  up  in  a  place  where,  commerce  having  obviated 
class  distinctions,  decent  people  treat  each  other  familiarly  and 
talk  unreservedly;  therefore  it  was  no  effrontery  for  me  to 
hope  that,  with  but  little  more  difficulty,  I  might  be  admitted  into 
the  society  of  the  ladies  of  this  city.  ...  If  an  introduction  to  your 
circle  was  offered  to  me  for  cash,  it  is  pardonable  for  me  to  have 
believed  that  even  I  had  the  right  to  aspire  to  it.  I  speak  without 
reserve;  I  take  off  my  mask,  hurt  whom  I  may.  For  a  hundred 
doppie  Countess  Beatrice  sold  me  her  mediation,  and  for  that  price 
assured  me  an  introduction  into  the  society  of  you  ladies.  ...  I 
bear  neither  her  nor  you  a  grudge;  it  is  sufficient  for  me  to  have 
shown  that  I  am  neither  foolish,  weak,  nor  presumptuous.  My 
carriage  awaits,  my  husband  urges  haste,  I  am  returning  to  my 
native  town,  and  with  me  I  shall  carry  the  recollection  of  your 


GOLDONI  AND  MOLIERE  559 

condescension  and  my  misadventure.  Furthermore,  in  reward  for 
the  kindness  you  have  shown  me,  permit  me  to  warn  you  that  both 
your  reputation  and  your  society  have  been  defiled  by  a  perfidious 
and  sordid  lady  more  than  your  dignity  has  been  offended  by  my 
low  birth. 

Having  discharged  this  parting  bolt,  Rosaura  de- 
parts for  Castell'  a  Mare,  leaving  society  scandalized 
by  the  disgrace  the  venality  of  one  of  its  members 
has  brought  upon  it.  Countess  Beatrice  is  ostracized, 
and  in  order  that  no  dishonour  shall  attach  to  their 
order,  Count  Ottavio  collects  from  the  nobility  a 
hundred  dopple  to  repay  Rosaura  the  fee  she  has 
paid  for  her  social  promotion.  Yet  in  spite  of  this 
chivalrous  restitution,  it  is  difficult  not  to  feel  that 
this  little  parvenue  is  a  more  wholesome  and  praise- 
worthy person  than  the  members  of  the  punctilious 
society  she  strove  so  hard  to  enter.  She  is  no  such 
farcical  personification,  moreover,  as  Monsieur 
Jourdain,  but  a  flesh-and-blood  person  such  as  we 
have  all  met  elbowing  her  way  into  society. 

Here  Goldoni  is  on  his  own  ground,  and  standing 
securely  there,  he  is  not  overshadowed  by  his  great 
predecessor.  The  dialogue  of  The  Punctilious 
Ladles  is,  to  be  sure,  less  scintillating  than  that  of 
Moliere's  comedy,  and  in  acting  qualities  it  is  infer- 
ior, Donna  Rosaura  being  no  such  "fat  part"  as 
Monsieur  Jourdain;  yet  it  is  doubtful  whether  just 
such  an  upstart  as  he  may  be  encountered  in  real 
life,  while  no  one  may  travel  far  in  cosmopolitan 
society  without  meeting  more  than  one  Rosaura — a 
little  bourgeoise,  whose  head  is  turned  by  the  gla- 


560  GOLDONI 

mour  of  rank.  Though  striving  by  every  means 
she  can  command  to  enter  its  charmed  precincts,  this 
ambitious  climber  from  CastelF  a  Mare  is  endowed 
with  enough  common  sense  to  turn  her  horses'  heads 
thither,  after  realizing  her  shame  and  confounding 
her  enemies,  a  course  of  conduct  that  assures  us  she 
will  return  to  her  provincial  birthplace  a  wiser  and 
a  better  woman. 

In  fidelity  to  nature  lies  Goldoni's  genius.  All 
the  study  he  put  upon  the  construction  of  his  plays 
was  designed,  he  declares,  in  order  "not  to  spoil 
nature";  yet,  except  in  the  single  instance  of  The 
Punctilious  Ladles,  he  not  only  spoiled  nature  but 
debased  his  own  genius  as  well  whenever  he  tres- 
passed on  the  soil  of  his  one  surpassing  rival  in  the 
realm  of  comedy.  "We  should  respect  the  great 
masters  who  have  hewn  the  path  of  science  and  art," 
he  announces,  "since  every  age  has  its  dominant 
genius."  In  making  use  of  Moliere's  plots  and  cha- 
racters he  forgot,  alas,  his  own  qualifications  to  this 
wise  observation,  to  the  effect  that  "every  clime  has 
its  national  taste,"  for  only  when  straying  from  the 
genial  warmth  of  Venice  into  a  clime  to  which  his 
southern  blood  was  not  attuned  does  he  become  in- 
significant. 


XVII 

CONCLUSION 

DURING  the  year  in  which  Goldoni  laid  aside 
court  frills  for  slippered  comfort  (1780), 
Louis  XVI  suppressed  his  Italian  troupe: 
henceforth  French  opera  and  comedy  reigned  alone 
at  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne  until  its  doors  were  closed 
in  1783,  the  native  singers  and  players  being  then 
installed  in  a  new  playhouse  that  bore  the  name  of 
Goldoni's  friend  Favart.  The  name  Comediens 
Italiens  still  clung  to  them,  however,  although  the 
only  transalpine  artist  who  remained  in  their  ranks 
was  Carlo  Bertinazzi  (Carlino),  retained  because 
Arlecchino  had  become  naturalized  in  French 
comedy. 

Before  leaving  windy  Versailles,  Goldoni  had 
written  the  libretti  of  three  operas  bouffes,  his  last 
dramatic  work,1  and  he  had  expected  to  be  invited 
to  arrange  for  the  Parisian  stage  the  musical  pieces 
that  were  given  in  Paris  (1777-1778)  by  a  troupe  of 
visiting  Italian  buffi;  but  not  until  these  singers  had 
failed  to  please  the  French  public  did  they  solicit 
his  aid.  Although  he  lamented  patriotically  their 
ill  success,  he  did  not  come  to  their  assistance,  his 

1L'Isola  di  Bengodi  and  /  Volponi,  1777;  //  Talismano,  1779. 


562  GOLDONI 

pride  having  been  offended  by  their  previous  neglect, 
while  he  thought  the  evil  of  their  mistakes  was  too 
deeply  seated  to  be  remedied  at  the  eleventh  hour. 
In  his  memoirs,  however,  he  does  not  glory  over  the 
Parisian  downfall  either  of  these  buffi  or  of  the  un- 
appreciative  comedians  who  had  brought  him  to 
Paris;  nor  does  he  deplore  the  failure  of  a  transla- 
tion of  one  of  his  comedies,2  which  appeared  upon 
French  boards  in  1785,  rancour  and  complaint  being 
foreign  to  his  kindly  nature,  and  his  "experience  with 
success  both  good  and  ill,"  too  extensive  to  permit 
him  "to  do  aught  but  render  justice  to  the  public 
without  sacrificing  his  tranquillity." 

Having  undergone  these  final  torments  of  his  pro- 
fessional career,  he  was  at  last  able  to  delight  in 
"the  honour,  love,  obedience,  and  troops  of  friends," 
which  according  to  Shakespeare  should  accompany 
old  age.  In  the  enjoyment  of  these  he  shall  be  left 
for  the  time  being,  two  happenings  of  the  days  when 
he  played  a  modest  role  at  court  having  purposely 
been  passed  by  until  the  reader  should  be  familiar 
with  The  Beneficent  Bear,  as  well  as  its  author's 
long  correspondence  with  Voltaire;  the  former  being 
pertinent  to  his  acquaintance  with  Rousseau,  and  the 
latter  to  the  visit  he  paid  to  the  great  Frenchman 
who  had  extolled  his  genius. 

Rousseau  returned  to  Paris  in  1770,  and  Goldoni, 
like  all  the  world,  wished  to  meet  him,  so  he  re- 
quested an  interview  and  was  told  that  if  he  would 

2  Un  Curioso  accidente. 


CONCLUSION  563 

take  the  trouble  to  climb  four  flights  of  stairs  in 
the  rue  Platriere,  the  author  of  Emile  would  be 
pleased  to  see  him.  Doing  as  he  was  bid,  the  door 
at  the  top  of  the  four  flights  of  stairs  was  opened 
for  him  by  sodden  Therese  Levasseur,  his  host's  con- 
cubine-wife, whom  Goldoni  mistook  for  a  house- 
keeper. 

Rousseau,  who  was  copying  music,  extended  a 
"frank  and  friendly  greeting."  "Look,  sir,"  said  he, 
with  a  copy-book  in  his  hand,  "I  challenge  a  score 
to  leave  a  press  as  beautiful  and  exact  as  it  leaves  my 
house."  Therese  was  summoned  to  place  a  log  on 
the  fire,  and  Goldoni's  heart  became  so  grieved  at 
seeing  "the  man  of  letters  employed  as  a  copyist  and 
his  wife  acting  as  a  servant"  that  he  could  hide 
"neither  his  chagrin  nor  his  astonishment."  Per- 
ceiving that  something  was  passing  in  the  mind  of 
the  dramatist,  Rousseau,  who,  as  we  are  assured, 
"was  no  fool,"  forced  a  confession  of  the  cause  of 
his  guest's  amazement;  whereupon  this  spirited  argu- 
ment ensued,  our  dramatist  being  the  narrator: 

"What!"  said  Rousseau,  "y°u  pity  me  because  I  am  engaged 
in  copying.  You  imagine  that  I  should  be  better  employed  in 
writing  books  for  people  incapable  of  reading  them,  and  articles 
for  unprincipled  journalists?  You  are  mistaken.  I  am  passion- 
ately fond  of  music;  I  copy  originals,  and  thereby  earn  my  liveli- 
hood; I  am  amused  and  that  is  sufficient  for  me.  But  you,"  he 
exclaimed,  "what  are  you  yourself  doing?  You  came  to  France 
to  work  for  the  Italian  actors,  who  are  a  lazy  lot,  and  have  no 
use  for  your  plays.  Off  with  you!  Go  home,  where  I  know  you 
are  both  wanted  and  expected." 

"Monsieur,"  said  I,  interrupting  him;  "you  are  right;  I  should 


564  GOLDONI 

have  left  Paris  after  experiencing  the  disregard  of  the  Italian 
players,  but  other  purposes  have  detained  me.  I  have  been  writ- 
ing a  play  in  French." 

"You  have  been  writing  a  play  in  French!"  said  he,  with  aston- 
ishment; "what  do  you  expect  to  do  with  it?" 

"Give  it  to  a  theatre." 

"To  what  theatre?" 

"To  the  Comedie  Franchise.  You  reproach  me  for  losing  my 
time,  but  it  is  you  who  lose  yours  without  any  good  results.  My 
play  has  been  accepted." 

"Is  it  possible  ?  I  'm  not  surprised,  however,  for  the  actors  have 
no  common  sense;  they  accept  or  reject  at  random.  It  is  accepted, 
perhaps,  but  it  won't  be  acted,  and  so  much  the  worse  for  you  if 
it  were." 

"How  can  you  form  an  opinion  of  a  play  you  have  never  seen?" 

"I  know  the  taste  of  the  Italians  as  well  as  that  of  the  French; 
they  are  too  dissimilar,  and,  with  your  permission,  your  age  is 
not  the  time  at  which  to  begin  to  write  in  a  foreign  tongue." 

"Your  reflections  are  just,  monsieur,  but  such  difficulties  may 
be  overcome.  I  have  entrusted  my  work  both  to  men  of  ability 
and  to  connoisseurs  who  appeared  to  like  it." 

"You  have  been  flattered  and  deceived,  and  you  will  be  the  dupe. 
Let  me  see  your  play.  I  am  frank  and  above-board,  and  I  will 
tell  you  the  truth." 

Authorlike,  it  had  been  Goldoni's  aim  to  induce 
the  Citizen  of  Geneva  to  read  The  Beneficent  Bear, 
yet  luckily  the  manuscript  was  in  the  hands  of  a 
copyist,  and  before  he  could  take  it  to  the  rue 
Platriere,  a  literary  friend3  told  him  of  an  experi- 
ence he  had  had  with  Rousseau,  which  demonstrated 
clearly  the  unwisdom  of  again  bearding  that  boorish 
philosopher  in  his  fourth-floor  den.  This  friend,  it 

8  Goldoni  calls  him  "M ".  Madame  de  Genlis,  who  tells  ap- 
proximately the  same  anecdote  in  her  Souvenirs  de  Felicie,  also  refrains 
from  naming  him. 


CONCLUSION  565 

appears,  had  been  invited  to  read  a  literary  product 
in  the  rue  Platriere,  and  also  to  furnish  a  bottle  of 
good  wine  for  the  frugal  supper  that  was  to  precede 
the  lection.  Interpreting  this  invitation  liberally  he 
brought  not  one  but  a  dozen  bottles,  eleven  of  which 
Rousseau  indignantly  put  out  of  doors  before  he 
would  consent  to  sit  down  to  the  chicken  and  salad 
Therese  had  prepared.  When  the  reading,  thus 
rudely  introduced,  began,  the  author  had  barely  fin- 
ished a  chapter  of  his  work,  before  his  host  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  angrily  declared  that  a  bearish  char- 
acter in  the  manuscript  was  a  satirical  portrait  of 
himself,  a  charge  the  guest  as  hotly  denied,  the  up- 
shot being  a  fierce  quarrel,  followed  by  an  acrid 
correspondence. 

"Rousseau  was  a  bear,"  Goldoni  declares;  "he  had 
acknowledged  it  in  this  quarrel  with  his  friend;  he 
had  only  to  become  addicted  to  beneficence.  He 
would  have  said  it  was  he  whom  I  wished  to  coun- 
terfeit in  The  Beneficent  Bear;  therefore  I  took  good 
care  not  to  subject  myself  to  his  ill  temper,  and  I 
saw  him  no  more." 

In  visiting  Voltaire  at  the  time  of  this  philoso- 
pher's Parisian  triumph  (1778),  Goldoni,  instead 
of  gratifying  idle  curiosity  and  his  author's  vanity — 
as  was  the  case  in  his  pilgrimage  to  the  rue  Platriere 
— only  repaid  a  deep-seated  obligation,  albeit  inade- 
quately. Although  the  disciples  of  Rousseau  may 
dispute  the  contention  of  an  American  apostle  of 
reason  that  Voltaire  "did  more  to  free  the  human 


566  GOLDONI 

race  than  any  other  of  the  sons  of  men,"  there  is  little 
doubt  that  he  did  more  to  make  Goldoni  known 
abroad  than  any  man  of  his  century,  for  if  a  genius 
must  needs  be  discovered,  he  was  the  Columbus  who 
revealed  his  Venetian  contemporary  to  Europe. 
Goldoni's  visit  to  the  Sage  of  Ferney  was  a  tardy 
fulfilment  of  a  duty  he  should  in  all  conscience  have 
performed  when  he  journeyed  to  Paris  in  1762,  the 
route  by  way  of  Geneva  being  but  a  trifle  longer  than 
that  through  Lyons,  where  he  tarried  almost  for  a 
fortnight  without  excuse.  Indeed  even  that  most 
erudite  and  sympathetic  of  Goldonians,  Professor 
E.  Maddalena,  can  offer  no  better  reason  for  his 
fellow-countryman's  neglect  to  pay  his  respects  to 
Voltaire  at  that  time,  than  the  surmise  that  since  Vol- 
taire was  at  odds  with  the  French  court,  Goldoni 
felt  it  would  be  indiscreet  to  visit  him  while  on  his 
way  to  serve  the  French  King.4  The  dramatist's 
own  reason  for  not  passing  through  Geneva  and  em- 
bracing M.  de  Voltaire,  as  the  latter  fondly  expected 
him  to  do,5  was  the  fear  that  he  might  "show  over- 
bearing boldness."  Moreover  he  hesitated  "to  abuse 
the  love  and  anxiety  with  which  it  had  been  shown 
he  was  awaited,"  6  an  insufficient  reason,  it  would 
seem,  for  not  turning  aside  a  few  leagues  to  pay  his 
respects  to  the  great  Frenchman  who  had  extolled 
his  genius  far  and  wide.  At  all  events,  Goldoni 

*Bricciche  goldoniane   (La  Visita  al  Voltaire}. 

5  Letter  to  Albergati-Capacelli,  Sept.  5,  1761,  quoted  by  E.  Maddalena, 
op.  cit. 

6  Letter  to  Gabriel  Cornet,  Aug.  19,  1762. 


CONCLUSION  567 

forwent  the  expected  visit,  and  did  not  pay  homage 
to  his  benefactor  until  sixteen  years  later,  when  Vol- 
taire was  the  cause  of  "the  last  great  commotion  in 
Paris  under  the  old  regime."  7 

On  the  day  following  his  arrival  in  Paris,  Voltaire 
received  three  hundred  visitors,  and  so  many  friends 
and  deputations  crowded  his  antechamber  on  suc- 
ceeding days  that  by  the  end  of  the  week  he  fell  ill. 
In  spite  of  Dr.  Tronchin's  admonitions,  he  refused 
to  deny  himself  to  visitors;  therefore,  in  the  words 
of  Madame  du  Deffand,  "all  Parnassus  from  the 
mire  to  the  summit"  flocked  to  the  Hotel  Villette. 
On  Tuesday,  February  lyth,  1778,  when  Goldoni 
wended  his  way  thither,  there  were  at  least  twenty 
deferential  subjects  waiting  to  be  ushered  into  the 
presence  of  the  King  of  intellectual  Europe,  who, 
with  a  dressing-gown  for  his  royal  robe  and  a  night- 
cap for  his  crown,  sat  enthroned  in  pillows.  Possi- 
bly Benjamin  Franklin  was  there,  and  Goldoni  a 
bewildered  listener,  when  Voltaire  assured  his 
wise  guest  in  the  latter's  own  language,  that  if  he 
were  forty  he  would  go  and  settle  in  his  happy  coun- 
try, and  blessed,  at  the  same  time,  his  young  grand- 
son with  the  words  "God  and  Liberty." 8  Although 
reproved  by  Madame  Denis  for  talking  English  to 
Franklin,  who  understood  French,  Voltaire  dis- 
played the  same  linguistic  vanity  during  his  con- 
versation with  Goldoni;  since,  according  to  a 

7  John  Morley:     Voltaire. 

8  Professor  E.  Maddalena  (op.  cit.)  suggests  that  Goldoni  was  present 
at  the  time  of  Franklin's  visit. 


568  GOLDONI 

pamphleteer  who  was  present,  he  assured  the  trans- 
alpine dramatist  in  his  own  tongue  that  he  considered 
him  the  restorer  of  Italian  seemliness  and  good  taste. 
"We  were  all  astonished,"  says  this  witness,  "to  hear 
M.  de  Voltaire  speak  Italian  with  as  much  facility 
and  speed  as  French,  a  surprise  M.  Goldoni  aug- 
mented by  telling  us  that  M.  de  Voltaire  had  once 
written  him  a  letter  not  only  in  Italian  but  in  Vene- 
tian." 9 

Though  in  his  memoirs  he  pays  full  tribute  to 
Voltaire's  greatness,  Goldoni  is  singularly  reticent 
regarding  his  relations  with  the  man  to  whom  he 
owed  European  recognition.  "All  the  world  wished 
to  see  Monsieur  de  Voltaire,"  he  says,  "and  happy 
were  those  who  could  talk  with  him.  I  was  of  that 
number,  for  I  was  too  deeply  indebted  to  him  not 
to  make  haste  in  paying  him  my  homage,  and  ex- 
pressing my  gratitude."  Thus  the  Venetian  ac- 
knowledges his  debt  to  his  great  contemporary  and 
shows  that  he  considered  its  requital  a  duty;  there- 
fore, although  he  omitted  to  pass  through  Geneva 
on  his  way  to  Paris  in  1762,  he  may  be  absolved  of 
the  charge  of  utter  ingratitude.  "II  caro  Goldoni'' 
lamented  Voltaire  at  that  time,10  "II  figlio  della 
natura  wishes  to  let  me  die  without  giving  me  the 
consolation  of  seeing  him.  He  wrote  from  Lyons 

9  An  article  in  the  Journal  de  Paris    (Feb.  20,   1778)   by  Francois  de 
Neufchateau.    This   article,   dated   Feb.   19,   1778,   states  that  the  writer 
visited  Voltaire  two  days  before,  from  which  Professor  Maddalena,  who 
quotes  it   (op.  cit.),  infers  that  Goldoni's  visit  took  place  on  Feb.  17. 

10  Letter  to  Albergati-Capacelli,  Aug.  25,  1762. 


CONCLUSION  569 

that  he  was  unable  to  pass  by  my  house  because  his 
wife  was  with  him;  yet  surely  I  would  not  have 
stolen  his  wife,  and  I  should  have  received  both  of 
them  with  as  much  cordiality  as  they  could  meet 
h  anywhere  else."  Sixteen  years  passed  before 
Goldoni  gave  Voltaire  the  consolation  he  craved, 
which,  had  it  been  longer  deferred,  he  would  have 
died  without  receiving. 

Two  years  after  his  visit  to  the  greatest  French- 
man of  his  century,  Goldoni  resigned  his  Italian 
tutorship  in  order  to  pass  his  declining  years  in 
the  salubrious  valley  of  the  Seine.  "Paris  is  a  great 
region  and  the  court  is  vast,"  he  had  declared  shortly 
after  his  arrival  in  his  adopted  country.  "In  order 
to  obtain  preferment  time  is  necessary."  "  Seven- 
teen years  of  service  and  courtiery  had  been  neces- 
sary for  the  attainment  of  a  sinecure  for  his  nephew 
and  a  modest  pension  for  himself;  therefore  the 
truth  of  this  apothegm  is  apparent,  at  least  in  his 

CISC. 

Although  in  his  seventy-third  year  when  he  retired 
from  the  vast  court  to  settle  down  in  Paris,  he  de- 
clares that  he  still  enjoyed  good  health.  He  was 
obliged,  however,  "to  observe  certain  precautions  in 
order  to  preserve  his  vigour" ;  and  although  thirteen 
years  of  his  long  life  were  still  to  be  lived,  he  began 
to  read  attentively  a  treatise  on  old  age.  The  place 
of  his  Parisian  residence  at  this  time  (1780)  has  not 
been  recorded,  though  possibly  he  dwelt  in  the  nar- 


57o  GOLDONI 

row  rue  pavee  Saint-Sauveur  where  he  died;  a  man 
of  his  years,  unless  forced  to  move  by  the  stress  of 
misfortune,  being  unlikely  to  change  his  abode. 

Soon  after  he  left  Versailles  his  niece,  Petronilla 
Margherita,  married  in  Venice  a  worthy  widower 
of  the  latter  city,  named  Chiaruzzi,  who  with  his 
first  wife  had  assumed  charge  of  her  welfare  after 
she  had  left  the  convent  in  which  she  had  been  edu- 
cated. "My  nephew  and  I  transferred  to  her  all 
our  Italian  property,"  says  Goldoni;  and  although 
he  makes  no  mention  in  his  memoirs  of  the  death  of 
his  hare-brained  brother,  it  is  apparent  that  this  event 
had  taken  place  previously  to  his  niece's  wedding, 
since  at  the  time  Goldoni  left  Venice  he  deeded  his 
Italian  possessions  to  Gian  Paolo.  The  marvel  is 
that  any  property  remained  to  transfer  to  Petronilla 
Margherita  after  it  had  touched  her  father's  itching 
palm. 

Goldoni  rejoiced  in  his  niece's  marriage  as  "an 
event  necessary  to  his  tranquillity";  yet  little  hap- 
pened to  disturb  his  peace  of  mind  during  the  first 
few  years  of  his  retirement  from  court  duties.  These 
years  were  passed  in  the  enjoyment  of  convivial  so- 
ciety, or  in  frequenting  the  theatres  of  Paris,  where 
he  delighted  in  seeing  the  works  of  young  authors 
which  he  viewed  in  a  way  more  friendly  than  criti- 
cal, his  judgment  of  plays  by  his  contemporaries 
being  strikingly  at  fault.  He  applauds,  for  instance, 
a  worthless  tragedy  12  by  La  Harpe,  "the  Baby  of 

12  Coriolan. 


CONCLUSION  571 

literature"  as  Freron  styled  him,  and  an  affected 
comedy13  by  the  Marquis  de  Bievre,  arch-punster 
of  that  day;  and  contends  that  a  comedy  by  syco- 
phantic Vigee,14  which  was  quickly  consigned  by 
the  public  to  the  limbo  of  bad  plays,  showed  its 
author  to  be  the  possessor  of  "a  perfect  taste,  tone, 
and  style" ;  yet  he  is  singularly  obtuse  in  his  estimate 
of  The  Marriage  of  Figaro  (Le  Mariage  de  Fi- 
garo), the  nimble-witted  protagonist  of  which  Na- 
poleon declared  to  be  "The  Revolution  in  action." 
Of  this  latter  play,  which  shares  with  The  Barber  of 
Seville  (Le  Barbier  de  Seville)  the  distinction  of 
being  the  most  masterly  French  comedy  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  in  which  its  aggressive  author  turned 
the  full  battery  of  his  trenchant  wit  against  the  insti- 
tutions of  the  old  regime  at  a  range  so  point-blank 
that  the  discharge  left  them  tottering  on  undermined 
foundations,  Goldoni  merely  says: 

The  Marriage  of  Figaro  had  the  greatest  success  at  the  Comedie 
Frangaise,  because  its  author  had  preceded  this  title  with  that  of 
The  Wanton  Day  (La  Folle  journee.)  No  one  knew  better  than 
M.  de  Beaumarchais  the  faults  of  his  play;  he  had  given  proof  of 
his  talent  in  this  style  of  writing,  and  if  he  had  wished  to  con- 
struct a  comedy  within  the  rules  of  the  art,  he  could  have  done 
so  as  well  as  any  one;  he  merely  wished,  however,  to  amuse  the 
public,  and  he  succeeded  perfectly  well. 

Although  Goldoni  confesses  that  "the  success  of 
this  comedy  was  quite  extraordinary,"  and  admits 
that  its  predecessor  The  Barber  of  Seville  was  "rel- 
ished and  applauded,"  he  is  careful  to  add  that  "the 

13  Le  Seducteur.  14  La  Fausse  coquette. 


572  GOLDONI 

connoisseurs  and  amateurs  of  good  style  made  their 
complaints  against  these  works  resound,  for  in  their 
opinion  they  were  executed  for  the  purpose  of  de- 
grading the  Theatre  Frangais."  A  revival  of  The 
Beneficent  Bear  which  had  been  announced  for  the 
season  in  which  The  Marriage  of  Figaro  appeared 
upon  the  boards  of  this  playhouse  was  three  times 
delayed,15  and  as  no  record  exists  of  its  having  taken 
place,  probably  it  was  postponed  indefinitely  because 
of  the  extraordinary  success  of  Beaumarchais's 
comedy. 

This  suggests  a  human  reason  for  Goldoni's  failure 
to  render  full  justice  to  the  merits  of  his  indefatigable 
contemporary,  who  possessed,  moreover,  a  sharp 
tongue,  while  the  charge  of  excessive  modesty  can- 
not justly  be  laid  at  his  door.  It  is  possible,  there- 
fore, that  Goldoni  met  and  disliked  Figaro's  brilliant 
creator  in  the  chateau  de  Versailles  at  the  time  when, 
glorying  in  his  newly  purchased  nobility,  the  latter 
gave  lessons  on  the  harp  to  Mesdames  de  France, 
and  was  the  moving  spirit  of  the  intimate  concerts 
in  which  the  royal  family  delighted.  Whether  or 
not  this  surmise  be  true,  it  is  certain  that  Goldoni 
was  at  odds  with  posterity's  verdict  in  his  estimate 
of  Beaumarchais's  two  masterpieces.  In  fairness  to 
his  sense  of  justice  it  may  be  added,  however,  that 
he  went  no  further  afield  in  this  instance  than  in  his 
judgment  of  his  own  plays,  some  of  the  most  medi- 
ocre of  which  he  places  among  his  best  works. 

15  Letter  to  Le  Baron  van  der  Duyn,  May  7,  1784,  quoted  by  Charles 
Rabany,  op.  cit. 


CONCLUSION  573 

Although  Goldoni's  critical  discernment  was  oc- 
casionally obscured  by  ardour  or  prejudice,  he  took 
a  keen  delight  in  music  and  painting,  as  well  as  in 
the  art  he  graced,  and  warmly  upheld  artistic  con- 
scientiousness; humbug  being  his  aversion,  as  is 
instanced  by  this  aptly  modern  conspectus  of  the 
wealthy  art  collector: 

The  rich  man  wishes  to  have  in  his  study  a  picture  by  the 
painter  who  has  become  distinguished.  The  less  fortunate  ama- 
teur contents  himself  with  mediocrity.  Some  people  employ 
artists  and  sculptors  so  that  it  may  be  printed  in  the  catalogue 
that  this  picture  was  painted  for  Monsieur  So-and-so,  this  bust 
carved  for  Madame  Such-and-such,  while  others  have  their  por- 
traits painted  for  the  pleasure  of  having  their  faces  appear  in  the 
salon. 

Ever  the  foe  of  artistic  falsehood,  Goldoni  made 
truth  his  shibboleth,  and  he  wisely  believed  in  the 
public  recognition  of  artistic  merit.  "There  are 
men  so  ill  advised,"  he  says,  "as  to  say  that  the 
French  Academy  is  useless.  .  .  .  On  the  contrary,  it 
places  a  crown  upon  merit  and  inspires  talent  to 
deserve  it."  Yet  this  artistic  digression  is  so 
remote  from  the  events  of  Goldoni's  declining  years, 
that  a  return  to  the  simple  tenor  of  his  life  in  Paris 
becomes  pertinently  necessary. 

After  his  retirement  from  the  court,  he  continued 
to  delight  in  convivial  companionships,  although  the 
ravages  old  age  had  made  upon  his  health  obliged 
him  to  safeguard  his  digestion  by  refusing,  when- 
ever possible,  to  sup  with  his  friends.  Invitations 
to  dine,  however,  he  accepted  with  alacrity,  and  he 


574  GOLDONI 

seldom  failed  to  attend  a  gaming  party.  The  Pari- 
sian cabmen — recruited  in  his  day  as  in  our  own 
"from  among  the  vilest  and  roughest  of  men"- 
were  his  especial  aversion;  yet  he  boasts  of  never 
having  had  a  dispute  with  any  of  them,  because  he 
always  spoke  to  them  "civilly  and  softly."  Still  he 
preferred  walking  to  entrusting  himself  to  their 
reckless  driving,  and  he  delighted  particularly  in 
making  excursions  to  Belleville,  Passy,  or  Clignan- 
cour,  where,  in  the  gardens  of  friends,  he  might 
breathe  fresh  country  air  and  enjoy  agreeable  society. 
The  routine  of  his  daily  life  in  Paris  he  thus 
describes : 

I  arise  at  nine  in  the  morning  and  breakfast  on  chocolat  de 
sante,  of  which  an  excellent  sort  is  furnished  me  by  Madame  Fon- 
tain,  rue  des  Arcis.  I  work  until  noon,  then  stroll  until  two;  I 
am  fond  of  society;  I  dine  out  frequently,  or  at  home  in  the  society 
of  my  wife. 

This  patient  helpmate  was  attacked  by  pleurisy  a 
few  years  after  leaving  the  court,  where  she  had 
always  been  ill  at  ease,  and  while  she  was  confined 
to  her  room,  her  lord,  whose  infidelities  she  had  so 
frequently  condoned,  felt  it  a  duty  to  sit  by  her  bed- 
side and  comfort  her.  "My  poor  wife,"  he  ex- 
claims, "had  paid  so  much  attention  to  me,  that  it 
was  necessary  for  me  to  pay  some  to  her."  He  in- 
variably speaks  of  her  in  this  fondly  appreciative 
way,  yet  she  played  but  a  minor  role  in  the  comedy 
of  his  life.  Fond  and  forbearing,  she  appears  now 
and  then  in  his  memoirs — as  a  typical  bourgeoise, 


THE  CARD  PARTY 


Museo    Correr 


CONCLUSION  575 

resigned,  dutiful,  and  loyal,  yet  in  no  wise  compan- 
ionable to  a  man  of  his  parts  and  predilections. 
"Good  Nicolettal"  The  term  is  justly  apt.  Alas, 
how  few  men  of  genius  have  had  the  fortune  to  be 
attended  through  life  by  wives  as  innocuously  faith- 
ful as  Goldoni's  colourless  helpmate!  Yet  Nico- 
letta  seems  to  have  been  more  necessary  to  her  hus- 
band's well-being  during  his  octogenarian  days  than 
at  any  other  period  of  her  wifely  companionship, 
for  then  at  least  she  played  a  comforting  part  in  the 
placid  life  he  here  depicts: 

After  my  dinner  I  like  neither  to  work  nor  walk;  sometimes  I 
go  to  the  theatre,  but  more  often  I  play  cards  until  nine  in  the 
evening.  I  return  home  before  ten,  take  two  or  three  chocolate 
comfits  with  a  glass  of  water  and  wine,  which  constitute  my  en- 
tire supper.  Until  midnight  I  chat  with  my  wife;  in  winter  we 
sleep  together  maritally;  in  summer  we  occupy  twin  beds  in  the 
same  room.  I  fall  asleep  quickly  and  pass  the  nights  peacefully. 

Whenever,  as  happened  occasionally,  his  "head 
was  filled  with  things  that  drove  sleep  away,"  he 
worked  upon  a  dictionary  of  the  Venetian  dialect, 
which  he  had  long  planned  to  publish — "an  annoy- 
ing and  distasteful"  remedy,  as  he  declares,  which 
was  narcotically  effective  to  one  blessed  like  himself 
with  a  temperament  in  which  "the  moral  is  analogous 
to  the  physical."  "I  fear  neither  cold  nor  heat,"  he 
asserts  in  this  connection,  "and  I  do  not  allow  myself 
to  become  inflamed  by  anger  or  intoxicated  by  joy." 

Such  was  his  unruffled  character,  and  such  the 
tranquil  life  he  led  during  the  old  age  of  cards, 


576  GOLDONI 

which  Pope  declares  to  be  the  world's  sole  reward 
for  its  veterans  after  the  frolics  of  youth  are  spent. 
In  Goldoni's  case,  however,  the  writing  of  his  me- 
moirs gave  old  age  a  recompense  far  sweeter  than 
cards;  since  in  penning  their  candid  pages  he  was 
able  to  relive  in  memory,  not  only  the  frolics  of 
youth  but  the  triumphs  of  manhood  as  well — a  joy 
which  only  the  veterans  of  the  world's  achievements 
may  attain. 

This  task,  which  occupied  his  morning  hours,  he 
began  at  the  age  of  seventy-seven,  and  continued 
until  he  reached  the  eightieth  year  of  his  protracted 
life.16  So  many  excerpts  from  the  pages  of  the 
Memoirs  have  appeared  in  the  present  work  that 
the  reader  already  knows  with  what  delightful  can- 
dour their  author  details  his  adventures,  both  seemly 
and  unseemly.  "I  doubt  if  in  the  whole  range  of 
autobiography  one  can  find  anything  of  a  cheerfuller 
sweetness,"  says  Mr.  Howells.17  Surely  no  autobi- 
ographer  has  made  himself  appear  more  lovable, 
or  written  of  his  own  age  with  more  gentleness  than 
has  this  cheerfully  observant  Venetian. 

In  the  first  part  of  the  Memoirs,  he  records 
quaintly  and  blithely  the  events  of  his  life  from  the 
time  of  his  birth  until  his  advent  in  Venice  as  Mede- 
bac's  playwright.  Here  an  age  is  vividly  portrayed, 

16  The    King's    "approbation"    of    the    Memoirs    is    dated    January    20, 
1787,   his   "privilege"   to   publish   them,   April    i3th   of   that   year,   facts 
which  indicate  that  the  writing  was  finished  prior  to  January  ist. 

17  Introductory  essay  to  the  abridgment  of  John  Black's  English  trans- 
lation of  the  Memoirs. 


CONCLUSION  577 

albeit  a  petty  age  of  finical  culture,  in  which  the 
indolent  ruling  class  expended  its  flaccid  energies 
in  opera-bouffe  wars  and  the  trivial  intrigues  of 
petty  courts,  or  frittered  its  time  away  in  ladies'  bou- 
doirs, while  a  submissive  peasantry  was  mulcted  by 
its  tax  gatherers,  or  pillaged  by  its  mercenaries. 
The  reader  who  lays  the  Memoirs  aside  at  the  end 
of  the  first  part  will  feel  that  he  has  seen  a  past  age 
brought  to  life  again ;  but  the  second  part,  in  which 
Goldoni's  declared  purpose  is  to  give  the  history  of 
all  his  comedies,  is  made  tediously  dull  at  times  by  a 
too  elaborate  analysis  of  their  plots,  and  a  too  minute 
detailing  of  the  jealousies  and  cabals  to  which  they 
gave  rise.  The  droll  humour  and  ingenuous  self- 
satire  which  make  the  earlier  pages,  as  Gibbon  de- 
clared, even  more  amusing  to  read  than  their  author's 
comedies,  are  singularly  lacking  in  this  second  part; 
and  although  Goldoni's  bonhomie  pervades  the 
third  part,  which  tells  the  story  of  his  life  in  France, 
this  too  lacks  the  vagrant  charm  with  which  his 
youthful  adventures  are  described.  Moreover, 
there  is  considerable  dulness  here  as  well,  many 
chapters  being  devoted  to  such  ephemeral  marvels 
as  ballooning  and  mesmerism,  or  the  chronicling  of 
state  weddings  and  other  festivities. 

At  the  time  when  the  Memoirs  went  to  press, 
Louis  XVI  was  summoning  the  Notables  of  his 
kingdom  to  assemble  at  Versailles.  Nowhere  in 
their  guileless  pages  is  there  any  evidence  to  show 
that  their  placid  author  knew  that  sedition  was  alive 


GOLDONI 

in  the  land,  even  so  momentous  an  incident  as  the 
affair  of  the  Queen's  necklace  being  dismissed  in  a 
gingerly  manner  as  a  matter  of  club  gossip  about 
which  the  wits  wrote  couplets;  "for  if  the  French 
lose  a  battle,  an  epigram  consoles  them,"  he  declares, 
"and  if  a  new  tax  is  imposed  upon  them,  a  vaude- 
ville indemnifies  them."  Moreover,  in  speaking 
of  the  fetes  held  in  honour  of  Marie  Antoinette  at 
the  time  of  her  marriage,  Goldoni  fails  to  mention 
the  catastrophe  that  resulted  in  the  death  of  over  a 
hundred  persons  and  the  wounding  of  many  times 
that  number,  the  display  of  the  fireworks  which 
caused  it  being  recorded  by  him  as  a  thing  of  great 
beauty,  and  Torre,  the  Italian  who  devised  it,  ac- 
claimed as  "an  artificer  who  on  this  occasion  carried 
the  pyrotechnic  art  to  the  highest  degree  of  perfec- 
tion." 

Yet  his  apparent  blindness  to  the  unrest  which  was 
undermining  the  obsolescent  institutions  of  France 
ill  accords  with  his  minute  observations  of  life. 
Surely,  a  man  who,  before  the  Contrat  Social  was 
penned,  had  expressed  by  means  of  a  character  in 
Pamela  sentiments  as  radical  as  any  voiced  by  Rous- 
seau, could  not  have  turned  an  entirely  deaf  ear  to 
the  political  views  of  the  philosophers  and  poets  who 
were  his  boon  companions.  Indeed  the  silence  he 
displays  in  his  memoirs  regarding  both  French  and 
Italian  politics  is  so  peculiarly  marked  that  it  is 
easier  to  suspect  him  of  worldly  wisdom  than  ob- 
tuseness,  especially  when  it  is  remembered  that  he 


CONCLUSION  579 

was  a  pensioner  of  both  the  King  of  France  and  the 
Duke  of  Parma.  Pertinent  to  this  view,  too,  is  the 
fact  that  the  publication  of  the  Memoirs  was  made 
possible  by  the  liberal  subscriptions  of  the  French 
royal  family,  as  well  as  those  of  the  many  princes, 
dukes,  marquises,  counts,  and  chevaliers  whose 
titled  names  adorn,  in  accordance  with  the  custom 
of  the  day,  their  prefatorial  pages. 

In  recording  the  conclusion  of  the  peace  that  gave 
the  American  States  their  freedom,  Goldoni  wisely 
observes  that  "the  former  subjects  of  Great  Britain, 
having  become  free  and  recognized  by  all  the  world, 
may  also  become  formidable."  "Will  they  always 
remember  their  good  friends,  the  French?"  he  asks; 
yet  in  framing  this  sagacious  question  he  committed 
no  political  indiscretion:  hence,  in  view  of  the  po- 
litical wisdom  he  here  displays,  it  does  not  seem 
unjust  to  suspect  that  he  preferred  seeing  the  wrong 
of  the  day  in  which  he  lived  through  "the  little  hole 
of  discretion,"  to  risking  the  receipt  of  a  lettre  de 
cachet,  or  even  the  loss  of  his  pension  by  a  polemical 
use  of  his  merry  pen. 

In  regard  to  religion,  his  memoirs  are  equally 
silent.  His  plays,  too,  are  devoid  of  all  reference 
either  to  the  Church  or  his  own  faith,  the  laws  of 
Venice  being  so  restrictive  in  this  respect  that  when, 
in  a  comedy,  he  wished  to  immure  a  young  lady  in 
a  convent,  he  was  obliged  to  resort  to  the  circum- 
locutory expedient  of  sending  her  to  dwell  with  an 
aunt  in  the  country.  When  Chiari,  in  his  School 


580  GOLDONI 

for  Widows,  applied  to  an  Englishman  the  word 
Panimbruo,  which  was  used  in  Venice  aspersively 
of  Protestants,  Goldoni — to  his  own  profit  be  it  said 
— pointed  out  to  the  Venetian  authorities  the  politi- 
cal indiscretion  of  permitting  stage  insults  to  Protes- 
tants ;  yet  there  is  nothing  in  this  incident  to  indicate 
his  religious  convictions.  That  he  took  a  liberal,  as 
well  as  a  passive,  view  of  religion,  is  made  clear, 
however,  by  this  extract  from  a  letter  to  his  friend 
Albergati : 18 

I  do  not  disapprove  of  devotion,  though  I  have  not  yet  had 
the  grace  to  possess  it.  I  don't  know  whether  I  ought  to  wish 
that  one  whom  I  esteem  and  love  should  attain  it;  yet  I  am  cer- 
tain that  even  if  you  do  not  become  devout,  you  will  love  as  you 
have  always  loved. 

Being  born  a  bourgeois,  traditionally  he  was  a 
believer  in  the  sacredness  of  vested  rights;  and  being 
a  lawyer  by  profession,  he  had  been  educated  both 
to  revere  custom  and  act  prudently;  hence  to  accuse 
him  of  having  kept  a  discreet  silence  in  matters  po- 
litical and  religious  is  merely  to  acknowledge  the 
formative  powers  of  both  inheritance  and  educa- 
tion. It  is  well  to  remember,  too,  in  this  connection, 
that  tyrannical  laws  prevented  him  not  only  from 
satirizing  the  Church,  but  the  State  and  its  ruling 
class  as  well.  Whenever  he  placed  a  nobleman 
upon  his  stage  he  chose  a  Milanese  or  a  Neapolitan 
count — never  a  Venetian  patrician;  yet  in  spite  of 
the  care  with  which  he  avoided  political  indiscretion, 

18  Oct.  8,  1765. 


CONCLUSION  581 

he  was  denounced  to  the  Venetian  authorities  by  an 
enemy  named  Zigo  for  having  presaged  national 
misfortunes;  while  Carlo  Gozzi  confesses  that,  with 
the  hope  of  ruining  him,  he  called  the  attention  of 
the  Government  to  Goldoni's  "exceedingly  liberal  , 
and  democratic  tendencies."  When  it  is  remem- 
bered that  he  lived  under  a  tyrannical  government 
both  in  Venice  and  in  France  and  that  he  was 
avowedly  peaceful,  it  becomes  possible  to  see  in 
this  placid  Venetian  a  man  of  far  more  radical 
convictions  than  his  writings  make  him  appear.  As 
Luigi  Falchi  points  out,19  the  liberal  opinions  that 
are  expressed  repeatedly  in  his  plays  indicate  that 
they  were  also  in  his  heart  and  mind.  Had  he  been 
given  a  greater  licence  in  expression,  "with  what  sat- 
isfaction," says  this  Italian  commentator,  "might  he 
not  have  placed  Roman  prelates  and  Venetian  pa- 
tricians upon  the  stage!" 

The  product  of  bourgeois  birth  and  precise  edu- 
cation, Goldoni,  though  a  Bohemian  by  nature,  and 
perhaps  both  a  radical  and  free-thinker  at  heart, 
took  too  sanely  happy  a  view  of  life  ever  to  become 
a  knight-errant.  The  art  of  comedy  calls,  however, 
for  no  girding  of  the  loins;  therefore  the  world 
should  have  no  quarrel  with  him  because  his  peace- 
able heart  prevented  him  from  becoming  either  a 
crusader  or  a  fire-brand.  No  doubt,  as  he  declares, 
"truth  was  his  favourite  virtue,"  yet  discretion  was 
decidedly  the  better  part  of  his  valour,  a  fact  he 

19  Op.  cit. 


582  GOLDONI 

makes  apparent  in  saying:  "I  am  of  a  pacific  dis- 
position, and  I  have  always  preserved  my  coolness 
of  character." 

When  the  Memoirs  were  published  in  1787,  six 
spectacled  years  still  remained  to  him;  though  his 
keen  enjoyment  of  life  continued  until  his  merry 
soul  was  freed  by  death.  "At  my  age  I  read  little, 
and  I  read  only  amusing  books,"  he  exclaimed,  at 
this  time;  yet  his  passion  for  writing  continued  until 
his  wizened  hand  could  no  longer  grasp  a  pen.  Be- 
fore the  Memoirs  appeared,  he  had,  in  collaboration 
with  a  young  American  of  French  origin,  projected 
a  literary  journal  in  which  France  and  Italy  were  to 
be  brought  into  closer  intellectual  relations,  but  his 
co-editor  fell  in  love  with  an  Italian  actress  whom 
he  married  when  her  first  lord  died,  and,  as  the 
capricious  lady  refused  to  live  in  Paris,  "the  journal 
ended,"  so  Goldoni  states,  "before  it  began" ;  luckily, 
it  would  appear,  since  he  declared  on  another  occa- 
sion that  "for  all  the  gold  in  the  world,  he  would 
not  work  on  a  newspaper." 

Work  evidently  had  no  terror  for  him,  however, 
and  politics  no  charm,  else  he  could  not,  during  the 
stirring  winter  that  preceded  the  fall  of  the  Bastille, 
have  calmly  translated  The  Beneficent  Bear  into 
Italian,  in  order  that  the  proceeds  of  its  publication 
might  relieve  a  friend's  distress.  Friendship,  as 
warm  in  his  octogenarian  heart  as  love  had  been  dur- 
ing his  frolicsome  youth,  was  the  inspiration,  too,  of 
the  translation  he  finished  barely  two  years  before 


CONCLUSION  583 

his  death,  of  Miss  Jenny,  a  novel  by  his  friend  Ma- 
dame Riccoboni.  Although  he  was  in  far  from 
easy  circumstances  at  the  time,  this  translation,  too, 
was  made  for  the  purpose  of  assisting  an  impover- 
ished friend,  in  this  instance  an  old  Italian  who  like 
himself  had  given  lessons  in  the  mother-tongue. 
Apparently  the  feather  of  the  pen  he  used  in  his  old 
age  had  dropped,  to  paraphrase  Wordsworth,  from 
an  angel  of  charity's  wing. 

Alfieri  visited  him  while  he  was  penning  the  last 
pages  of  the  Memoirs;  but  this  turbulent  poet,  so 
antipathetic  by  nature,  had  too  slight  a  regard  for 
comedy  to  allow  Goldoni  to  see  in  him  more  than  a 
notable  man  of  letters.  Moratin,  too,  paid  him  a 
visit  in  1787,  and  heard  him  discourse  upon  the 
drama,  as  well  as  upon  the  ingratitude  of  a  country 
which  "obliged  him  to  live  far  from  home  supported 
by  a  pension";  yet  neither  this  Spanish  colleague  in 
the  art  of  comedy  nor  Alfieri  should  be  numbered 
among  the  friends  whom  he  loved  "truly  and  con- 
stantly" and  whose  loyalty  brightened  his  declining 
years.  Though  Cochin  the  artist  drew  his  portrait 
to  adorn  the  Memoirs,  and  one  Caccia,  an  Italian 
banker  resident  in  Paris,  sent  to  Italy  for  a  book  to 
cheer  him  during  an  illness,  the  truest  friends  of  his 
old  age  were  De  la  Place  the  journalist,  and  Favart 
the  great  librettist,  both  of  whom  had  been  his  boon 
companions  in  the  days  of  Dominical  jollity. 

In  1790,  when  Favart  was  in  his  eightieth  year, 
and  Goldoni  and  De  la  Place  each  in  his  eighty-third, 


584  GOLDONI 

a  certain  Abbe  Cosson  toasted  in  verse  the  friend- 
ship of  these  three  old  cronies  then  limping  toward 
the  grave.  In  November  of  the  following  year, 
while  savage  sentries  were  pacing  before  the  prison 
of  an  execrated  King,  Goldoni  dined  with  Favart, 
and  in  artistic  reminiscence  and  companionship 
forgot,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  his  woes,  as  well  as  those  of 
France.  Surely  a  more  friendly  tribute  was  never 
paid  by  one  man  of  letters  to  another  than  is  to  be 
found  in  the  following  verses,  with  which  the  father 
of  opera  bouffe,  unmindful  of  the  anarchy  that 
reigned  in  the  land,  invited  Goldoni  to  dine: 

To  thee,  fair  Italy's  Moliere; 
Thalia's  foster  child  and  heir! 
Goldoni,  dear  to  heart  and  mind, 
Whose  talent  and  good  taste  combined 
To  quicken  charm  in  thine  own  land 
And  rescue  from  the  vandal's  hand 
The  tarnished  honour  of  her  stage!  .  „ 
My  heart,  in  reverence  thy  thrall, 
To-day  addresses  thee  its  call: 
Friday  (to-morrow)  come  to  me 
At  noon:  let  naught  prevent,  prithee. 

Within  six  months  after  these  two  old  soldiers  of 
the  pen  made  merry  together,  Favart  died;  less  than 
a  year  later  Goldoni  followed  him  through  death's 
narrow  gate,  his  revenues,  like  Favart's,  having  been 
swept  away  by  Revolutionary  events.  In  July,  1792, 
the  King's  civil  list  was  suspended,  and  with  it  our 
court  Italian  teacher's  pension,  a  petitionary  demand 
that  an  exception  be  made  in  his  case  being  denied. 


CONCLUSION  585 

A  few  months  before  this  unlucky  event  happened 
Goldoni  received  from  the  Comedie  Frangaise 
twelve  hundred  francs  in  final  payment  for  the  per- 
petual rights  of  The  Beneficent  Bear — a  sum  that 
in  all  likelihood  was  his  only  resource  during  the 
last  year  of  his  life.20 

After  his  pension  was  revoked  he  felt  the  pinch 
of  poverty,  and,  in  all  probability,  suffered  ill  health. 
For  several  years  he  had  been  the  victim  of  "palpi- 
tations" which  attacked  him  "during  all  seasons  and 
at  all  hours,"  and  which  he  learned  to  endure  so 
stoically  that  even  when  seized  at  dinner,  or  the  card- 
table,  "no  one  suspected  that  he  was  suffering  intense 
pain."  That  these  palpitations  were  the  eventual 
cause  of  his  death  is  possible,  although  by  no  means 
certain,  the  events  of  his  life  subsequent  to  the  publi- 
cations of  his  memoirs  being  largely  conjectural. 
On  March  26,  1791,  he  wrote  to  an  acquaintance21 
that  although  he  had  purged  himself  on  the  previous 
day  he  was  unable  to  go  out  as  he  had  hoped  be- 
cause the  wind  prevented  him,  and  he  felt  that  he 
had  not  yet  recovered  from  an  illness.  In  Novem- 
ber of  that  year,  he  received  Favart's  panegyric  invi- 
tation, and  during  the  following  August  (1792)  he 
dined  at  an  embassy  (probably  the  Venetian)  where 
he  met  Count  Giuseppe  Gorani,  a  literary  adven- 

20  On  February  i,  1792,  he  petitioned  the  Societaires  of  this  theatre  te 
give   his   nephew    a   pass   to    its   performances,    a   privilege   which   was 
granted  on   Feb.  6th,  to  be  in  force  as   long  as  Le  Bourru  bienfaisant 
remained  in  the  repertory. 

21  Letter  to  the  Signer  Segretario  N.  N.,  March  26,  1791. 


586  GOLDONI 

turer  who  had  assisted  at  Milan  in  the  publication  of 
Verri's  periodical,  //  Gaffe.  A  few  days  later  Gol- 
doni  fell  ill,  and  probably  never  regained  sufficient 
health  to  sit  again  at  the  board  of  a  friend,  or  to 
take  his  accustomed  walks.  In  a  letter  written  at 
this  time  he  declares  that  the  only  things  of  value 
that  remained  to  him  were  "a  stout  stomach  and  a 
tender  heart." 22  Fully  a  year  before  he  had 
ordered  from  Madame  Fontain,23  eight  pounds  of 
chocolate  and  three  pounds  of  comfits,  but  now  want 
had  come  as  an  armed  man  to  prevent  him  from  re- 
galing his  stout  stomach  with  its  favourite  luxuries ; 
and  as  Favart  was  dead,  and  convivial  De  la  Place  in 
the  shadow  of  the  grave,  only  good  Nicoletta  and 
the  nephew  whom  he  "loved  and  esteemed  as  if  he 
were  his  own  child"  were  left  to  solace  that  tender 
heart. 

On  the  sixth  of  February,  1793,  eighteen  days 
after  Louis  XVI  had  mounted  the  scaffold,  Goldoni 
died  in  the  rue  pavee  Saint-Sauveur,24  and  on  the 
following  day  Marie-Joseph  de  Chenier  unaware,  as 
has  been  seen  in  the  preceding  chapter,  of  his  death, 
arose  in  the  National  Convention  to  move  that  his 
pension  be  restored.  Three  days  later,  on  the  mo- 
tion of  this  'same  poet-deputy,  Goldoni's  widow  was 
granted  an  annuity  of  fifteen  hundred  livres,  while 

22  Letter  to  Masi  et  Cie.,  Sept.  3,  1792. 

23  Letter,  May  n,  1791. 

24  The  certificate  of  his  death,  witnessed  Feb.  19,  1793,  by  his  nephew, 
a  friend  named  Laprime,  and  a  public  official,  sheds  no  light  upon  the 
cause. 


CONCLUSION  587 

on  February  i7th,  Etienne  Claviere,  who  held  the 
financial  portfolio  in  the  so-called  "Patriotic  Minis- 
try," petitioned  the  actors  of  the  Comedie  Frangaise, 
or,  as  it  was  then  styled,  the  Theatre  de  la  Nation — 
to  give  a  performance  of  The  Beneficent  Bear  for 
the  benefit  of  Goldoni's  family,  a  request  granted  on 
June  loth.  A  week  later  the  performance  took 
place,  the  goodly  sum  of  eighteen  hundred  and  fifty- 
nine  livres  and  fifteen  sous  being  realized,  the  receipt 
of  which  was  duly  acknowledged  by  the  dead  drama- 
tist's nephew.25 

When  it  is  remembered  that  the  man  whose  family 
was  so  liberally  recompensed  at  a  time  so  anarchical 
was  a  foreigner  long  attached  to  the  royal  household, 
who  had  not  written  for  the  Parisian  stage  for  over 
fifteen  years,  the  consideration  paid  his  memory  by 
these  regicides  appears  so  astounding  as  to  beggar 
any  explanation  other  than  Chenier's  assertion  that 
he  had  blessed  Heaven  for  being  able  to  die  "a 
Frenchman  and  a  Republican."  Although  Gol- 
doni's  monarchical  fellow-countrymen  regard  this  as 
an  unproved  aspersion  upon  his  equable  character, 
Claviere  fully  corroborates  Chenier's  statement  in 
the  petition  he  addressed  to  the  actors  of  the  national 
theatre.  "Goldoni  belonged  so  thoroughly  to  the 
Revolution,"  says  this  ill-fated  Girondist,  "that  his 
greatest  anguish  was  to  be  obliged  by  his  ills,  his  old 
age,  and  the  needs  of  his  wife,  to  beg  for  the  restor- 

25  The  documents  regarding  these  events  have  been  published  by 
Charles  Rabany  (op.  cit.). 


588  GOLDONI 

ation  of  a  pension  he  had  received  from  Louis  XVI." 
"I  have  heard  him,"  Claviere  continues,  "warmly 
express  the  regret  that  he  was  unable  to  throw  its 
patent  into  the  fire  that  had  consumed  the  attributes 
of  royalty." 

Is  it  reasonable  to  suppose  that  at  a  time  when 
Robespierre  was  harrying  the  Girondists,  and  France 
was  at  war  with  Europe,  Chenier  would  have  dared 
to  state  openly  in  a  meeting  of  the  Convention  that 
Goldoni  was  a  Republican,  unless  he  knew  this  to  be 
a  recognized  fact?  Moreover,  a  pension  of  fifteen 
hundred  livres  was  voted  unanimously  by  the  seven 
hundred  or  more  hot-headed  deputies  composing  the 
Convention  to  the  widow  of  this  foreigner,  who  had 
held  a  royal  sinecure  and  whose  literary  activities 
had  long  since  ceased  to  attract  public  attention,  not 
one  of  them  gainsaying  either  the  justice  of  this 
extraordinary  proceeding,  or  the  republicanism  of 
the  man  whose  memory  they  signally  honoured. 

Although  Goldoni's  republicanism,  despite  the 
monarchical  obsequiousness  of  his  memoirs,  becomes 
from  these  facts  a  likely  supposition,  to  conclude 
that  he  was  converted  to  this  political  faith  at  the 
eleventh  hour,  either  through  fear  or  because  he  had 
ceased  to  profit  by  royal  preferment,  is  unjust  to  his 
truthful  character.  That  his  republicanism  was  a 
conviction  his  peaceable  nature  prevented  him  from 
expressing  strongly  until  free  speech  obtained,  may 
be  inferred  with  considerable  verisimilitude  from 
the  fact  that  forty  years  before  the  fall  of  the  Bastille, 


CONCLUSION  589 

he  had  had  the  temerity  to  pen  these  prophetic 
words,  the  radical  sentiments  of  which  might  well 
have  caused  him  to  be  lodged  in  a  Venetian  jail  : 

I  have  often  heard  it  said  that  the  world  would  be  more  beau- 
tiful if  it  had  not  been  spoiled  by  men  who  for  the  sake  of  pride 
have  upset  the  beautiful  order  of  nature.  That  common  mother 
regards  us  all  as  equal  ;  though  the  arrogance  of  the  great  does  not 
deign  to  consider  the  small.  The  day  will  come  when  one  pud- 
ding will  again  be  made  of  both  great  and  small.26 

Eighty-four  years  after  this  kindly  Venetian's 
death,  two  reverent  fellow-countrymen  placed  upon 
a  house  in  the  squalid  rue  Saint-Sauveur,  this  inscrip- 
tion: 

Here  died  poor  on  February  6th,  1793, 
Charles  Goldoni,  called  the  Italian 
Moliere,  author  of  The  Beneficent  Bear, 
Born  in  Venice  in  the  year 


It  is  unfortunate  that  this  grandiloquent  misnomer, 
"The  Moliere  of  Italy"  should,  in  glaring  injustice 
both  to  his  modesty  and  his  originality,  have  been 
inscribed  upon  the  house  in  which  he  died.  Al- 
though it  is  true,  as  Symonds  asserts,  that  not  one  of 
his  plays  bears  the  stamp  of  supreme  mastery,  it  is 
equally  true  that  Goldoni  belongs  among  the  eight 
or  ten  immortal  painters  of  human  foibles.28  To  his 

29  Pamela  nubile,  Act  III,  scene  3. 

27  The   inscription   was  placed   in   the   rue    Saint-Sauveur   in    1877   by 
Senator   Costantini   and   Chevalier  Toffoli.     Raffaello   Barbiera,   writing 
in    a    memorial    pamphlet    published    by   the    Societa    Editrice    Teatrale 
(Feb.  1907)   on  the  occasion  of  the  second  centenary  of  Goldoni's  birth, 
distrusts  this  identification  of  the  house  in  which  he  died. 

28  Raffaello  Giovagnoli:     Goldoni  a  fronte  di  Moliere  in  Carlo   Gol- 
doni per  cura  del  comitato,  Venice,  Dec.  30,  1883. 


59o  GOLDONI 

impassioned  detractors  he  is  merely  a  nimble  crafts- 
man; to  his  unthinking  partisans  he  is  the  Italian 
Moliere;  yet  his  name  spells  Italian  comedy,  and 
in  the  drama  of  the  world  his  place  is  unique,  no 
dramatist  having  painted  with  equal  fidelity  to  na- 
ture the  life  of  a  people  and  an  age.  Moreover,  no 
moralist  of  the  stage  has  preached  seemliness  and 
virtue  in  a  kindlier  tone  or  employed  satire  in  so 
impersonal  a  way.  Had  his  exacting  managers  per- 
mitted him  to  write  his  plays  with  care,  and  polish 
them  with  tenderness,  he  might  possibly  have  be- 
come, as  Cesarotti  suggests,  the  greatest  comic 
dramatist  of  the  world;  yet  while  speculating  upon 
the  innate  possibilities  of  his  genius,  it  should  be 
borne  in  mind  that  he  lacked  Moliere's  wisdom,  as 
well  as  his  unyielding  enmity  to  sham. 

Goldoni  loved  the  common  people,  however,  and 
instead  of  treating  them  as  clowns,  he  made  them 
likable  and  consistent  human  beings.  In*  this  respect 
he  is  superior  to  Moliere,  for  while,  as  our  Venetian 
himself  says,  he  "looked  everywhere  for  nature,"  the 
Frenchman's  search  was  confined  to  the  nobility  and 
the  bourgeoisie,  or  their  rascally  servants.  No  such 
cultivated  student  of  Epicurus  and  Lucretius  as 
Moliere,  no  such  independent  thinker,  either,  Gol- 
doni possessed  an  unerring  observation  for  the  things 
at  hand;  yet  he  was  too  short  of  sight  to  penetrate 
the  whole  atmosphere  enveloping  the  life  he  painted, 
therefore  he  failed  to  see  its  relation  to  the  past,  to 
the  future,  or  even  to  the  times  in  which  he  lived. 


CONCLUSION  591 

As  inimitable  genre  pictures  of  bits  of  humorous  life, 
The  Boors  and  The  Chioggian  Brawls  are  master- 
pieces ;  yet  while  we  may  laugh  at  them  till  tears  fill 
our  eyes,  and  extol  at  the  same  time  their  absolute 
fidelity  to  nature,  they  will  never  make  us  ponder. 
Goldoni  saw  clearly  and  plainly  everything  about 
him,  but  he  did  not  study  the  origin  of  the  things 
he  saw,  nor  deliberate  upon  their  relation  to  each 
other  and  to  the  future;  therefore,  though  a  great 
artist,  he  was  not,  like  Moliere,  a  great  philosopher 
as  well.  Understanding  him  as  thoroughly  as  he 
understands  his  age,  Philippe  Monnier29  thus  por- 
trays both  the  charm  and  the  limitations  of  this  com- 
manding figure  of  eighteenth-century  Venice: 

No  one  ever  invented  more  situations,  devised  more  incidents, 
wove  more  plots,  blended  more  episodes,  seized  upon  more  laugh- 
able characteristics,  strung  together  more  parts,  staged  more  char- 
acters, concocted  more  mirth,  or  scattered  and  squandered  greater 
riches  with  a  more  unconcerned  heart.  The  laughter  which  escapes 
from  this  topsy-turvy  jumble  is  a  frank,  youthful,  and  serene  laugh- 
ter, free  from  all  constraint,  unburdened  by  philosophy,  unspoiled 
by  cynicism.  It  gushes  forth  into  the  sunlight,  the  joyful  outburst 
of  a  merry  heart. 

Gran  Goldoni!  once  shouted  the  enthusiastic  crowd  on  carnival 
evenings  dead  and  gone.  Yes,  Great  Goldoni,  who  soothes  and 
simplifies,  direct  as  a  force  of  nature,  elemental  as  a  creature  of 
the  Golden  Age!  Great  Goldoni,  open-hearted  and  genially  ac- 
cordant, abounding  in  good  humour  and  good  will,  as  limpid  as 
water  from  a  spring,  as  clear  as  a  crystal!  Great  Goldoni,  who 
knew  how  to  interpret  himself,  to  control  himself,  to  disseminate 
himself!  And  again,  Great  Goldoni,  who,  when  abused,  ridiculed, 
and  misjudged,  triumphed  over  difficulties  with  his  smile,  and 

29  Op.  cit. 


592  GOLDONI 

avenged  insults  by  forgiving;  who  continues  to  present  mankind, 
whether  wicked,  miserable,  or  sorrowful,  with  a  benign  example  of 

joy. 

Here  he  is  not  patriotically  exalted,  as  many 
Italians  have  exalted  him,  nor  chauvinistically  belit- 
tled, as  a  few  Frenchmen  have  belittled  him,  but 
justly  given  his  true  place  as  a  naturalist  who 
"soothes  and  simplifies"  our  lives  and  whose  humour 
is  the  "joyful  outburst  of  a  merry  heart."  Nor  is  he 
deified  as  "the  Italian  Moliere" — an  epithet  beneath 
the  crushing  weight  of  which  he  has  all  but  perished. 
In  Venice  he  is  still  Gran  Goldoni,  beloved  of  her 
people,30  while  throughout  Italy  his  name  is  a  house- 
hold word.  " 

Truthful  painter  of  the  manners  of  an  age,  re- 
former of  the  Italian  stage,  Goldoni,  the  literary 
glory  of  the  Venetian  Republic,  is  still  the  greatest  of 
Italy's  stage-craftsmen.  His  best  comedies  being 
written  in  dialect,  his  reputation  suffers  abroad,  the 
Venetian  speech  with  its  elided  forms  and  words  of 
Spanish  and  Oriental  origin  being  puzzling  even  to 
an  Italian  not  of  Venetian  birth.  A  score  or  more 
of  his  comedies  have  been  translated  into  English 
and  French,  yet  there  is  not  in  either  of  these  lan- 
guages a'single  published  translation  of  any  of  those 
Venetian  plays  that  "do  him  the  greatest  honour," 

30  While  the  author  was  in  Venice  he  employed  the  telephone  operator 
at  his  hotel  to  transcribe  some  passages  from  a  book  he  had  borrowed. 
Knowing  it  was  to  be  used  for  a  life  of  Goldoni  in  English,  she  refused 
to  take  any  remuneration  for  her  work,  saying  that  she  wished  to  do 
her  share  in  making  "  dear  Papa  Goldoni "  known  abroad. 


CONCLUSION  593 

while  only  a  few  of  his  Tuscan  comedies — and  these 
not  always  the  best — may  be  enjoyed  by  readers 
unfamiliar  with  Italian.  Moreover,  he  wrote  far 
too  many  plays  for  his  reputation  to  receive  its 
deserts;  the  most  extensive  edition  of  his  works  con- 
sisting of  fifty  volumes,  a  number  to  appal  any  but 
the  ardent  student. 

No  such  philosopher  as  Moliere,  and  no  such 
finished  poet,  he  painted  the  Venetian  life  about  him 
in  the  colours  of  truth.  Because  they  are  not  suf- 
ficiently elevated  "above  the  range  of  every-day  life," 
as  Schlegel,  who  thus  seeks  to  belittle  him,  declares, 
his  characters  are  not  of  heroic  stature ;  yet  when  his 
world  is  restricted  to  his  native  Venice,  his  interpre- 
tations of  life  are  unexcelled  in  naturalistic  charm. 
Whenever  he  wanders  from  Venice  his  work  becomes  ; 
mediocre,  and  even  negligible.  The  city  of  the  la- 
goons was  his  true  milieu,  and  there,  while  mingling 
with  the  garrulous  carnival  throng,  he  collected  his 
characters  and  his  witticisms  from  reality,  his  artist's 
soul  becoming,  in  the  words  of  a  fervent  admirer, 
"the  soul  of  a  people." 

Although  he  lived  in  a  dissolute  age,  the  heart  of 
this  great  Venetian  was  untainted.  In  his  comedies, 
fathers  are  taught  kindness  and  sons  respect;  wives 
are  told  to  love  their  husbands  and  their  children; 
husbands,  to  be  agreeable  and  well  behaved;  more- 

I     i 

over,  vice  is  punished  and  virtue  rewarded  in  a  way 
now  deemed  old-fashioned,  yet  none  the  less  whole- 
some. To  the  fleetness  of  his  observation  is  due  the 


594  GOLDONI 

teeming  product  of  his  fancy.  He  did  not  meditate 
himself,  therefore  he  does  not  make  us  meditate; 
yet  his  characters  are  vivid  portrayals,  and  his  com- 
edies of  Venetian  life  minute  and  comprehensive  pic- 
tures of  the  society  of  an  epoch.  "Lovable  painter  of 
nature,"  as  Voltaire  affectionately  called  him,  this 
faithful  portrayer  of  a  bygone  age  remains  the  most 
wholesome  example  of  good  humour  in  the  realm  of 
comedy. 


APPENDICES 

prepared  by 
F.  C.  L.  VAN  STEENDEREN,  PH.D. 

Professor  of  Romance  Languages 

in 
Lake  Forest  College 


PREFATORY  NOTE 

Ernesto  Masi  (Scelta  dl  commedie  dl  Carlo  Goldoni,  Preface)  says: 
"  To  classify  the  vast  mass  of  Goldoni's  dramatic  works  is  very  difficult. 
Writers  and  editors  have  tried  it  many  times,  and  there  is  not  one  of 
these  attempts  that  does  not  give  rise  to  criticism  both  justifiable  and 
justified."  Philippe  Monnier  (Venise  au  XVIIIe  siecle,  p.  236)  ex- 
presses the  same  idea  thus:  "It  would  be  amusing  to  enumerate  all  the 
attempts  at  classification  that  have  been  made  of  Goldoni's  comedies. 
Not  one  is  satisfactory,  because  none  is  possible.  You  cannot  emprison 
life  in  molds." 

If  a  chronological  classification  is  nevertheless  offered  here,  it  is  be- 
cause Goldonian  scholarship  has  in  recent  years  made  such  progress  as 
to  warrant  another  attempt,  and  because  without  it  a  systematic  study 
of  Goldoni's  work  is  impossible.  To  assert  absolute  completeness  for 
Appendix  A  in  the  face  of  the  expressed  opinion  of  the  authorities  just 
quoted,  would  merely  prejudice  the  work  in  the  minds  of  scholars; 
yet  it  is  fair  to  state  that  no  pains  have  been  spared  to  make  it  com- 
plete and  correct,  the  editions  of  Pasquali,  Zatta,  Prato,  Girolamo 
Tasso,  and  the  Municipality  of  Venice  (as  far  as  published),  the  Li- 
brary of  the  British  Museum,  the  principal  libraries  of  Paris,  and  the 
writings  of  those  who  have  worked  on  the  subject,  having  been  dili- 
gently searched  for  the  purpose.  Moreover,  Mr.  Chatfield-Taylor,  in 
1910,  brought  considerable  data  from  Italy. 

A  classification  according  to  genres  is  a  different  matter:  that  is 
neither  so  necessary,  nor  so  feasible.  A  play  like  La  Dama  prudente, 
for  instance,  is  as  much  a  comedy  of  character  as  of  manners,  while 
in  La  Locandiera  the  elements  of  manners,  character,  and  intrigue  are 
so  ingeniously  mixed,  that  an  attempt  to  disentangle  them  would  be  fu- 
tile. Moreover,  types  such  as  the  Miser  or  the  Cavaliere  servente, 
which  Moliere  would  present  as  Generalized  Truth,  Goldoni  individu- 
alizes as  does  Nature  herself:  by  mingling  the  traits  of  one  type  with 
those  of  other  types  in  the  same  human  being,  as  in  77  Geloso  avaro;  or 
by  spreading  the  characteristics  of  a  single  type  among  three  or  four 
individuals,  as  in  /  Rustcghi. 

While  no  classification  of  the  comedies  in  the  categories  of  manners, 
character,  intrigue,  bourgeois,  lachrymose,  etc.,  has  been  offered,  it  has 
been  deemed  desirable  and  practicable  to  embody,  together  with  the 
researches  of  Mr.  Chatfield-Taylor  and  myself,  those  of  Messieurs 
Rabany,  Dejob,  Maddalena,  Ortolani,  Musatti,  Neri,  Toldo,  Caprin, 
Malamani,  De  Gubernatis,  and  others,  in  the  matter  of  important  re- 
semblances among  the  plays,  thus  grouping  and  indicating  by  number, 
plays  dealing  with  cicisbeism,  villeggiatura;  intriguing,  pert,  or  up- 
right women ;  physicians,  lawyers,  merchants,  misers,  etc.  These  groups 
have  been  placed  under  the  head  of  sources,  because,  as  in  the  case  of 
Mirandolina  in  La  Locandiera  or  of  Geronte  in  Le  Bourru  bienfaisant, 
the  finished  form  of  a  character,  as  Goldoni  says,  often  "  vien  da  Ionian 
sentiero"-,  ard  because,  as  in  the  Villeggiatura  series,  the  dramatist 
attacks  a  social  foible  from  different  angles  and  with  increasing  effi- 

597 


598 


PREFATORY  NOTE 


ciency;  thus  making  one  play  in  certain  respects  the  source  of  another. 

In  regard  to  the  sources  that  lie  outside  of  Goldoni  and  his  plays, 
the  edition  of  the  Municipality  of  Venice,  when  completed,  may  clarify 
and  amplify  a  number  of  points.  At  present,  however,  conclusions 
concerning  the  sources  of  many  of  Goldoni's  plays  remain  open  for 
argument.  Nor  does  it  seem  that  the  study  of  this  subject  has  pro- 
gressed to  that  degree  of  finality  in  which  mere  resemblances  are 
rigorously  separated  from  the  sources  which  Goldoni  actually  used. 
For  these  reasons,  as  well  as  for  the  purpose  of  saving  space,  the 
authorities  for  the  sources  as  given  have  as  a  rule  not  been  indicated, 
although  they  may  all  be  found  in  the  Bibliography  (Appendix  C). 

The  authorities  for  the  dates  of  the  premieres  of  the  plays  have, 
however,  been  given  in  every  case,  and  the  mention  of  first  editions 
has  been  added  as  a  convenient  check  upon  their  accuracy.  It  is  prob- 
ably not  superfluous  to  point  out  that  Goldoni  says  (Mem.  II,  p.  87^ : 
"  J'avertis  le  lecteur,  a  cette  occasion,  de  ne  pas  s'en  rapporter  aux 
dates  de  mes  ouvrages  imprimes,  car  elles  sont  presque  toutes  fautives," 
and  that  this  warning  unfortunately  applies  with  equal  force  to  his 
chronological  statements  in  the  Memoirs.  The  terms  of  the  various 
contracts  with  Medebac  and  the  Vendramins  have  been  used  to  de- 
termine the  number  of  plays  to  be  expected  at  the  end  of  each  year 
or  period  during  which  a  contract  was  in  force,  and  the  printing  clause 
in  the  contracts  with  the  Vendramins,  together  with  Goldoni's  cor- 
respondence, has  corrected  many  a  date  as  found  in  the  Memoirs  or  the 
editions  of  Goldoni's  plays. 

In  order  to  give  a  clear  conception  of  the  dramatist's  activity  for 
each  year,  and  to  avoid  the  subtle  and  debatable  categories  which 
would  have  to  be  made  for  plays  like  La  Sposa  persiana,  II  Terenzio, 
Don  Giovanni  Tenorio,  etc.,  Goldoni's  theatrical  works  have  been  cata- 
logued according  to  their  presentation  on  the  dramatic  stage  (A,  i), 
or  the  operatic  stage  (A,  2).  A  large  majority  of  the  plays  in  A,  i 
being  comedies,  when  a  play  is  not  differently  designated,  it  is  a 
comedy;  and  unless  otherwise  indicated,  the  comedies  are  in  Tuscan 
prose,  and  have  three  acts,  while  the  tragedies  and  tragi-comedies  are 
in  verse,  and  have  five  acts.  Whenever  the  term  "  Ven."  is  used  after 
a  title,  the  play  is  either  entirely  or  mainly  in  Venetian  dialect.  In 
many  other  comedies,  however,  which  are  essentially  in  the  Tuscan 
idiom,  the  mask  characters  which  appear  speak  dialect.  In  order  to 
show  the  influence  of  the  Commedia  dell'  arte  over  Goldoni's  work,  the 
number  of  mask  characters  in  a  play  is  indicated. 

For  a  more  detailed  treatment  of  the  plays  for  music  (A,  2),  the 
two  brochures  on  the  subject  by  Dr.  Cesare  Musatti,  to  whom  my  list 
is  heavily  indebted,  should  be  consulted.  The  surprisingly  vast  number 
of  translations  from  Goldoni's  plays  has  been  considered  only  in  re- 
gard to  those  in  English;  for  the  translations  in  general  Professor 
Maddalena's  work  in  the  Note  storiche  of  the  edition  of  the  Munici- 
pality of  Venice,  his  Fortuna  delta  "  Locandiera"  and  Le  Traduzioni 
del  "  Ventaglio,"  are  indispensable. 

In  conclusion  I  wish  most  cordially  to  express  my  indebtedness  to  Mr. 
Chatfield-Taylor.  Not  only  has  he  collected  the  books  and  ^documents 
which  I  have  used,  but  he  has  with  untiring  helpfulness  given  me  a 
number  of  valuable  suggestions. 

F.  C.  L.  v.  S. 
Lake  Forest  College. 


ABBREVIATIONS 

Goldoni's  plays  in  this  catalogue  are  indicated  and  referred  to  by 
means  of  Arabic  numerals.  Titles  listed  in  italics  indicate  plays  writ- 
ten for  amateurs.  All  titles  have  been  quoted  verbatim  et  literatim. 
An  Arabic  numeral  after  the  number  of  an  act  of  a  play  indicates  the 
scene  referred  to.  When  throughout  the  catalogue  only  one  work  of 
any  author  is  quoted,  his  name  is  used  to  indicate  it,  the  title  appearing 
in  this  list  of  abbreviations,  as  well  as  in  the  Bibliography. 

Aut.  — *    Autumn    season,    beginning   first   week   of   Oct.,   and 

ending  Dec.  15. 

Bartoli  =    Scenari  inediti  della  commedia  dell'  arte. 

Bettt  =    Bettinelli's    edition    of    Gold.'s    works    (See   Bibliog- 

raphy). 

Cam.  =z=     Carnival    season,    beginning    Dec.    26,    and    ending 

Shrove  Tuesday  of  year  following. 

Chap.  =     Chapter. 

Delia  Torre  =  Saggio  di  una  bibliografia  delle  opere  intorno  a 
Carlo  Goldoni. 

Desboulmiers   ~    Histoire  anecdotique  et  raisonnee  du  theatre  italien. 

Ed.  —     Edition,  or  edited. 

Gold.  =     Goldoni. 

Grimm  ==     Correspondance    litteraire,   philosophique    et    critique 

adressee  a  un  souverain  d'Allemagne  par  le  Baron 
de  Grimm  et  par  Diderot. 

It,  =    Italian. 

Mantovani  =  Carlo  Goldoni  e  il  teatro  di  San  Luca  a  Venezia. 
Carteggio  inedito. 

Mart.  —     Martellian  verse. 

Mem.  I  or  II  ==  Memorie  di  Carlo  Goldoni  riprodotte  integralmentg 
dalla  edizione  originale  francese.  Con  prefazione 
e  note  di  Guido  Mazzoni. 

Mun.  of  Ven.  —  Opere  complete  di  Carlo  Goldoni  edite  dal  Municipio 
di  Venezia  nel  II  centenario  dalla  nascita. 

pap  =:    Paperini's    edition    of    Gold.'s    works     (See    Bibliog- 

raphy). 

pasq%  =    Pasquali's    edition    of    Gold.'s    works     (See    Bibli- 

ography). 

perj.  =     Performance,  or  performed. 

Pill'  =    Pitteri's  edition  of  Gold.'s  works  (See  Bibliography). 

Rabanv  ==     Carlo    Goldoni.     Le   Theatre   et   la  vie   en  Italie   au 

XVIUe  siecle. 

Sav.  =    Savioli's    edition    of    Gold.'s    works    (See   Bibliogra- 

phy). 

Summ.  =     Summer    season    on    the    mainland,    when    Venetian 

theatres  were  closed. 
Transl.  =    Translation,  or  translated. 

Ven.  =    In  Venetian  dialect. 

599 


APPENDIX  A 

CATALOGUE  OF  GOLDONI'S  WORKS 

i.— IMPROVISED  COMEDIES,  COMEDIES,  TRAGEDIES, 
AND  TRAGI-COMEDIES. 

1718.  i.— FIRST  COMEDY.  No  title.  Lost.  Written  probably  at 
age  of  eleven  (Pasq.,  vols.  I  &  II,  prefaces;  Mazzoni,  Mem.  I, 
note  to  p.  30;  Delia  Torre,  p.  33). 

1725.  2. — IL  COLOSSO.  Atellane,  or  satire  in  dialogue.  Lost. 
(Pasq.,  vol.  VIII,  preface). 

For  Inter,  San  Samuele  Theatre,  Venice. 

1734-  3.— BELISARIO    (Bellisario}.     Tragi-comedy.     Nov.   24    (Mem. 
I,  p.  204;  Pasq.,  vol.  XI,  p.  13;  Von  Lohner,  Mem.,  p.  227,  note). 
First  ed.  1738,  Pisarri  (Spinelli,  Bibl.  gold.,  p.  167).     First  author- 
ized ed.  1793,  vol.  XXXII,  Zatta. 

Source:    Belisario,  tragedy  perf.  1733  by  Vitali  troupe,  Milan. 

1735-  4.— ROSMONDA.     Tragedy.     Jan.   17    (Mem.  I,  p.  206;   Pasq., 
vol.  XIII,  p.  9).     First  ed.  1793,  vol.  XXXIII,  Zatta. 

Sources:  Muti,  La  Rosimonda  (Mazzoni,  Mem.  I,  p.  413). 
Giovanni  Rucellai  (1475-1525),  Rosmunda.  The  Longobard  leg- 
end of  Alboino's  death. 

5. — L'ACCADEMIA  LETTERAR^A  and  a  one-act  improvised 
comedy,  the  title  of  which  is  unknown.  Lost.  An  Introduzione 
to  Aut.,  preceding  Gold.'s  interlude  La  Fondazione  di  Fenezia 
(Pasq.,  vol.  XIV,  pp.  4  &  6). 

6. — GRISELDA.  Tragi-comedy,  3  acts.  Written  at  Padua, 
spring;  perhaps  perf.  at  Udine,  summ. ;  Aut.  (Mem.  I,  pp.  211  & 
218;  Pasq.,  vol.  XIV,  p.  2;  Von  Lohner,  Mem.,  p.  290,  note). 
First  ed.  1777,  vol.  XI,  Guibert  and  Orgeas,  Turin. 

Sources:  Apostolo  Zeno,  and  Pietro  Pariati  (1665-1733), 
Griselda.  Boccaccio,  //  Decamerone,  Giorn.  X,  Novella  10. 
1736.  7.— DON  GIOVANNI  TENORIO  o  sia  IL  DISSOLUTO  (// 
Convitato  nuovo).  Blank  verse,  5  acts.  Carn.  till  end,  Feb.  14 
(Von  Lohner,  Mem.,  p.  303).  First  ed.  (pirated)  1754,  Bologna 
(Spinelli,  Bibl.  gold.,  p.  27;  Mem.  I,  p.  223).  Probably  rewritten 
for  the  Pap.  and  later  editions. 

Sources :     Lope  de  Vega,  El  Dinero  es  quien  hace  hombre.     Tirso 
de  Molina,  El  Burlador  de  Sevilla.    Gold,   acquainted  with  It. 
601 


602  APPENDICES 

transl.  by  Onofrio  Giliberto  (1652)  and  Giacinto  Andrea  Cicog- 
nini  (1691)  under  title  of  //  Convitato  di  pietra.  Moliere,  Don 
Juan,  ou  le  Festin  de  pierre,  and  Thomas  Corneille's  verse  render- 
ing of  it.  To  portray  Gold.'s  love  affair  with  Passalacqua,  she  is 
represented  by  Elisa,  Vitalba  by  Don  Giovanni,  and  the  author  by 
Carino  (Pasq.,  vol.  XIV,  p.  8.,  Mem.  I,  p.  216). 

8.— RINALDO  DI  MONTALBANO  (Rinaldo  nuovo).  Tragi- 
comedy. Aut.  (Pasq.,  vol.  XV,  p.  3 ;  Von  Lohner,  Mem.,  p.  290, 
note).  First  ed.  1774,  vol.  XIII,  Sav. 

Source:  La  Poverta  di  Rinaldo,  improvised  comedy  (Pasq., 
vol.  XV,  p.  4).  Bartoli,  p.  xlv,  gives  title  of  scenario,  Rinaldo  da 
Montalbano,  perf.  Paris,  April  6,  1717. 

I737-  9.— ENRICO  RE  DI  SICILIA  (Enrico;  Enrico  111  di  Sicilia}. 
Tragedy.  Cam.  (Von  Lohner,  Mem.,  p.  315,  note),  and  possibly 
Dec.  26,  1736  (Mem.  I,  p.  229).  First  ed.  (separate)  1740,  Bett. 

Source:  Le  Sage,  Histoire  de  Gil  Bias,  Book  IV,  Chap.  4:  Le 
Manage  de  vengeance. 

1738.  10.— L'UOMO    DI    MONDO     (Momolo    cortesan;    El    Cortesan 
venezian}.     Ven.,   3   masks.     An  improvised  comedy  at  first,   save 
for  one  role.     No  certainty  for  date:     Cam.,  Dec.  26,  1738-Feb.  10, 
1739,  authority  being  Mem.  I,  p.  232  and  Pasq.,  vol.  XV,  preface. 
First  ed.  1757,  vol.  X,  Pap. 

Sources:  Paroncin,  an  improvised  comedy.  Boisrobert,  La 
Belle  plaideuse.  Moliere,  L'Avare. 

1739.  ii. — IL  PRODIGO   (Momolo  sulla  Brenta}.     3  masks   (Momolo 
speaks  Ven.).     Aut.    (Pasq.,  vol.  XVI,  p.  3,  where  Gold,  says: 

"  Veggendo  la  buona  riuscita  del  Momolo  dell'  anno  passatc  .  .  . 
ho  pensato  di  fare  un  altro  Momolo  ancor  quest'  anno  per  il 
medesimo  Golinetti,  ed  ho  intitolato  la  nuova  Commedia: 
Momolo  sulla  Brenta  o  sia  II  Prodigo."). 

First  ed.  1757,  vol.  X,  Pap. 

Sources:  Guidobaldo  Benamati,  //  Prodigo  ricreduto  (1652). 
A  scenario,  Lelio  prodigo,  attributed  to  G.  B.  Boccabadati  (1634- 
96).  Giorgio  Giulini,  //  Prodigo  (1745).  Voltaire,  L'Enfant 
prodigue.  Von  Lohner  (Mem.,  p.  327)  thinks  the  original  for  the 
Prodigo  is  Michele  Grimani,  proprietor  of  the  San  Samuele 
theatre.  Number  n  is  first  comedy  dealing  with  Villeggiatura. 

1740.  12.— LE    TRENTADUE    DISGRAZIE    D'ARLECCHINO.    Im- 
provised  comedy    written   for    Sacchi.     Began    Aut.    (Mem.    I,   p. 
237;  Pasq.,  vol.  XV,  preface).     Not  printed,  but  seems  to  have  be- 
come common  stage  property: 

Bartoli,  p.  xlvii,  mentions  Le  Trentadue  disgrazie  di  Truf- 
faldino,  which  is  perhaps  the  same  play  ;  and  ibid.,  p.  xlvi,  Le 
Ventisei  disgrazie  d'Arlecchino,  perf.  Paris,  Sept.  3,  1751. 

Source:     G.  B.  Delia  Porta   (i53O~l6l3)»  La  Sorella. 

13.— CENTO  E  QUATTRO  ACCIDENTI  IN  UNA  NOTTE 
(La  Notte  critica).  Improvised  comedy.  Aut.,  2  weeks  after  la 


APPENDICES  603 

(Mem.  I,  p.  238).     Bartoli,  p.  xlviii,  mentions  /  Cento  e  quattro  ac- 
cidenti  succedutl  nella  notte  istessa.     Not  printed. 

1741.       14.— LA  BANCA  ROTTA  o   sia   IL  MERCANTE   FALLITO 
(La  Bancarotta).    4  masks.     Cam.,  after  Gold,  had  gained  some 
experience  as  Consul  for  Genoa   (Mem.  I,  p.  240;  Pasq.,  vol.  XVI, 
p.  5).     Ran  till  Febr.  14.     First  ed.  1757,  vol.  X,  Pap. 
Source:    //  Mercante  jallito,  an  improvised  comedy. 

1743.  15.— LA  DONNA  DI  GARBO.  2  masks.  Aut.  (Pasq.,  vol. 
XVII,  p.  4,  where  Gold,  says: 

He  wrote  it  for  the  servetta  Baccherini,  gave  it  to  the  com- 
pany during  earn.,  1743,  jealousy  against  La  Baccherini  prevent- 
ing its  performance  at  that  time.  She  died  in  May,  and  her  rival, 
La  Bastona,  possessed  herself  of  the  coveted  role. 

The  first  comedy  Gold,  printed:  1747,  Bergamo  (Pasq.,  vol. 
IX,  p.  19;  Spinelli,  op.  cit,  p.  164;  Von  Lohner,  Mem.,  p.  410). 

Sources:  Nolant  de  Fatonville,  Colombine,  avocat  pour  et  con- 
ire  (1685),  and  Colombine,  femme  vengee  (1689).  Hauteroche, 
L 'Esprit  follet  (1684).  Boisrobert,  L'Inconnue  (1646).  Tirso  de 
Molina,  Don  Gil  de  las  calzas  verdes  (bef.  1618).  Calderon, 
La  Dama  duende. 

1745.  16.— IL  SERVITORE  DI  DUE  PADRONI.  4  masks.  Aut.  (Von 
Lohner,  Mem.,  p.  392:  Sacchi,  for  whom  it  was  composed  in  the 
form  of  a  scenario,  returning  from  Russia  during  the  summer). 
Written  in  Pisa.  First  ed.  1753,  vol.  Ill,  Pap. 

Source:  A  transl.  by  Luigi  Riccoboni  of  Arlequin,  valet  de  deux 
maitres,  comedy  by  Jean  Pierre  de  Ours  de  Mandajors,  perf.  Paris, 
July  31,  1718  (Nouveau  Mercure,  Aug.,  1718;  Dictionnaire  des 
theatres  de  Paris,  1756). 

1746?  17.— IL  FIGLIO  D'ARLECCHINO  PERDUTO  E  RITRO- 
VATO.  Improvised  comedy,  partly  written.  After  Gold,  heard 
from  Sacchi,  probably  aut.  1745,  regarding  success  of  16,  and  be- 
fore author's  journey  to  Florence,  beginning  of  May,  1747  (Von 
Lohner,  Mem.,  p.  399).  Printed  in  Rasi,  /  Comici  italiani,  Part  I, 
vol.  I,  p.  373,  who  translated  it  from  Desboulmiers. 

For  Medebac,  Sant'  Angela  Theatre,  Venice. 

There  was  a  preliminary  agreement,  signed  Sept.  1747,  for 
the  theatrical  year  1748-49,  followed  on  March  10,  1749,  by  a 
contract  in  force  from  Feb.  19  of  that  year  until  the  last  day 
of  Cam.,  1753.  Terms:  Gold,  to  write  8  comedies  and  2  operas 
for  each  theatrical  year,  not  to  write  for  other  theatres  of  Venice 
except  books  for  musical  plays,  and  to  accompany  the  troupe  on 
its  journeys  to  the  mainland  between  Carn.  and  Aut. 

1748.       18.— IL  FRAPP ATORE    (Tonin  bella  grazia).    2  masks.    Aut. 

Aut.    Partly   written    in   Pisa,    for    Gold,    gives   notice   of   this    play   to 

D'Arbes  in  letter  dated  Pisa,  Aug.  13,   1747    (Maddalena,  Nota 


604  APPENDICES 

storica,  Mun.   of   Ven.,   vol.   II,   p.   77).    First   ed.   1757,   vol.  X, 
Pap. 

Source:    Paroncin,  see  10. 

19.— I  DUE  GEMELLI  VENEZIANI.  3  masks.  Aut.,  but  pos- 
sibly in  Pisa,  1747  (Pap.,  vol.  IX),  or  Mantua,  spring,  1748  (Mem. 
I,  p.  295,  Act  III,  17,  mentions  date,  Jan.  14.  1746  (more  <ueneto 
=  1747)  in  a  marriage  contract.  Written  for  D'Arbes  before 
Gold,  met  Medebac  (Von  Lohner,  Mem.,  p.  407,  note).  First  ed. 
1750,  vol.  I,  Bett. 

Sources:  Plautus,  Menachmi.  Regnard,  Les  Menechmes  ou  les 
jumeaux.  G.  B.  Delia  Porta,  /  Due  fratelli  simili.  Scenari: 
(Locatelli),  Le  Due  simile,  Le  Due  simili  di  Plauto,  Li  Due  fra- 
telli simili;  (cod.  Correr,  Museo  Civ.,  Venice),  Due  Flaminie 
simile,  Due  simili  con  le  lettere  mutate;  (Scala),  Li  Due  vecchi 
gemelli,  Li  Due  capitani  simili;  etc.  Also  G.  B.  Andreini,  La 
Turca.  Trissino,  /  Simillimi.  Firenzuola,  I  Lucidi.  Aretino,  Le 
Due  Francesche.  Bibbiena,  Calandria.  Gold,  says  (Pasq.,  vol. 
VIII,  preface)  that  original  of  Pancrazio  (who  has  the  attributes 
of  Tartuffe)  is  Dominican  who  fleeced  him  on  journey  to  Chioggia, 
when  expelled  from  Ghislieri  College.  (Jurisprudence),  15. 
/  20.— L'UOMO  PRUDENTE.  3  masks.  Aut.,  after  failure  of 
18  (Mem.  I,  p.  299),  and  after  19  (Malamani,  L'Ateneo  veneto 
a  C.  G.,  p.  32),  but  possibly  in  Mantua,  spring  (Pap.,  vol.  IV). 
Written  in  Pisa  (Mem.  I,  p.  300).  First  ed.  1750,  vol.  I,  Bett. 

Source:     (Jurisprudence),  15,  19. 

Dec.        2i.— LA  VEDOVA  SCALTRA.     3  masks.    Began  Cam.    (Mem. 
26*       I,  p.   305),  but  probably  given  to  Medebac  in  July  and  perf.  at 
Modena,  Summ.    (Pap.,  vol.  3;  Modena  a  C.  G.,  pp.  67  &  306). 
First  ed.  1750,  vol.  I,  Bett. 

Source:  Arcangelo  Spagna,  La  Donna  folletto  owero  le  lar've 
amorose  (ed.  1684).  Hauteroche,  L'Esprit  follet  (1684).  Reg- 
nard, Les  Folles  amour euses.  (Cicisbeism),  20.  Inspired  by  Mme. 
Medebac's  acting  at  perf.  of  number  15,  Leghorn,  Summ.,  1747. 

1749.       22.— NERONE.     Tragedy.     Jan.   (Spinelli,  Fogli  sparsi,  letter  of 
Cam.  Dec.  29,  1748,  where  Gold,  says:    "La  sesta  sera  dell'  anno  pros- 
simo  venture  andra  in  scena  per  la  prima  volta  a  Sant'  Angelo"). 
Not  printed. 

23.— LA  PUTTA  ONORATA.  Ven.  (except  2  roles),  3  masks. 
Cam.,  finishing  season  (Mem.  I,  p.  307).  First  ed.  1751,  vol.  II, 
Bett. 

Source:  Le  Putte  di  Castello,  a  popular  comedy.  (Venetian 
life),  10. 

24.— IL  PANTALONE  IMPRUDENTE.  Gold,  wrote  a  com- 
edy with  this  title  one  year  after  20;  it  was  not  perf.  (Pap.,  vol. 
VII,  pref.  to  63).  The  Diario  veneto  of  Jan.  14  and  15,  1765,  indi- 


APPENDICES  605 

cates   a  perf.  of  24    (Ortolani,  Nota  storica  to  61,  Mim.  of  Ven., 
vol.  IX).    Lost. 

Aut.  25.— LA  BUONA  MOGLIE  (La  Bona  mugier).  3  masks.  Oct., 
season  opening  with  21,  the  perf.  of  which  was  suspended  by 
the  Tribunal  of  the  Inquisition,  Nov.  15,  but  which  had  probably 
already  stopped,  owing  to  Chiari's  parody  of  21,  La  Scuola  delle 
vedove,  at  the  San  Samuele  (Malamani,  L'Ateneo  veneto  a  C.  G.t 
p.  28).  First  ed.  1751,  vol.  II,  Bett. 

Source:  23,  to  which  it  is  a  sequel  with  same  dramatis  per- 
sons. 

26.— IL  CAVALIERE  E  LA  DAMA  o  I  CICISBEI.  3  masks. 
Nov.  25-Dec.  15  (Mem.  I,  p.  318;  Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  Ill,  Nota 
storica,  p.  289).  Had  been  perf.  Verona,  Summ.  (Pasq.,  vol.  II; 
Masi,  Scelta  di  commedie  dl  C.  G.,  vol.  I).  First  ed.  1752,  vol. 
Ill,  Bett. 

Sources:     (Cicisbeism),    20,   21.     (Jurisprudence),    15,    19,  20. 
Dec.        27.— IL  PADRE  DI  FAMIGLIA.     3  masks  when  first  perf.;   i 
26.       mask  when  first  printed;    none   in   final   form    (Pasq.,   vol.   VII). 
Probably   opens    Carn.,    possibly   given    early   in    1750.     First    ed. 
1751,  vol.  II,  Bett. 

Maddalena  (Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  Ill,  Nota  storica,  p.  185)  says 
of  27:  "  Rappresentata  nel  sett,  del  '50  al  Teatro  del  Cocomero  a 
Firenze  (v.  Lami,  Novelle  letterarie,  1751,  T.  XII,  col.  665)  e  nel 
earn,  dell'  anno  seguente  (stile  comune)  a  Venezia "...  This 
does  not  necessarily  mean,  though  it  implies,  a  first  perf..  Its  suc- 
cessor, L'Awocato  veneziano  (Mem.  I,  p.  363),  had  already  been 
mentioned  in  the  pref.  to  the  Bettinelli  ed.  (1750)  ;  Malamani, 
op.  cit.,  p.  28,  places  27  in  the  theatrical  year  1749-50;  lastly,  if 
it  had  been  first  perf.  in  Venice  during  Carn.  1751,  there  would 
have  been  17,  not  16,  new  comedies  in  1750-51. 

Sources:  Character  of  Ottavio  suggested  by  same  Dominican  as 
was  that  of  Pancrazio  in  19.  For  alleged  plagiarism  in  Diderot's 
Pere  de  famille,  see  Toldo,  Se  il  D.  abbia  imitato  il  G,,  and 
Pasq.,  vol.  VII,  p.  165.  (Cicisbeism),  20,  21,  26. 

28. — GIUSTINO.  Tragedy.  Date  unknown,  but  mentioned  by 
Gold,  in  the  Prefazione  dell'  autore  premessa  all'  Edizione  di 
Venezia  MDCCL  e  a  quella  di  Firenze  MDCCLIH  (Pasq.,  vol. 
I,  p.  14).  First  ed.  1793,  vol.  XXXII,  Zatta. 

1750.       29.— L'AVVOCATO  VENEZIANO.     i  mask;  protagonist  speaks 
Carn.  Ven.     Cam.,  following  27    (Mem.   I,  p.  363;    Malamani,  op.  cit., 
p.  28).     First  ed.  1752;  vol.  Ill,  Bett. 

Sources:  (Jurisprudence),  15,  19,  20,  26.  Law  case  in  29  pro- 
posed by  Gold,  in  1732,  in  the  Academy  of  Doctor  Ortolani  of 
Venice  (Pasq.,  vol.  X,  p.  9). 

30.— LA  FAMIGLIA  DELL'  ANTIQUARIO  o  sia  LA  SUO- 
CERA  E  LA  NUORA.  4  masks.  Carn.  (A.  &  A.  Spinelli,  Let- 


606  APPENDICES 

tere  di  C.  G.  e  di  G.  Medebach  al  conte  Arconati-Visconti,  p. 
59;  Malamani,  op.  cit.,  p.  28).  First  ed.  1752,  vol.  Ill,  Bett. 

Sources:  lacopo  Angelo  Nelli,  La  Suocera  e  la  nuora  (Landau, 
Geschichte  der  ital.  Litter.;  Maddalena,  Intorno  alia  Famiglia 
dell'antiquario ;  Malamani,  op.  cit.)  Original  of  the  antiquary  is 
Antonio  de'  Capitani  of  Mantua,  mentioned  by  Casanova  in  his 
Memoirs,  vol.  II,  p.  59  (Valeri,  Intorno  a  una  commedia  di  Gold.). 
(Cicisbeism),  20,  21,  26,  27. 

31.— L'EREDE  FORTUNATA.  i  mask,  first  form  3  masks. 
End  of  Cam.,  but  not  the  last  night,  when  23  and  25  were  given 
(Mem.  I,  p.  324;  Malamani,  op.  cit.,  p.  30).  First  ed.  1752,  vol. 
Ill,  Bett. 

Sources:  Moliere,  Le  Cocu  imaginaire.  (Jurisprudence),  15,  19, 
20,  26,  29. 

The  Sixteen  Comedies.  At  the  end  of  the  perf.  (Feb.  10,  1750), 
referred  to  under  31,  Gold,  promised  in  a  sonetto  recited  by  the 
prima  donna,  "una  (commedia)  a  la  settimana  per  almanco  "  for 
the  theatrical  year  1750-51.  In  act  I,  2  of  //  Teatro  comico  (32) 
Placida  mentions  16  titles  of  comedies,  but  though  in  the  dialogue 
preceding  the  list  it  is  stated  on  two  occasions  that  Gold,  had  writ- 
ten them,  they  were  not  all  in  existence  on  Oct.  5,  1750,  when  the  new 
Venetian  season  began.  During  the  summer  at  Mantua  and  Milan 
Gold,  wrote  only  seven  of  the  16  (Malamani  L'A-teneo  veneto  a 
C.  G.),  and  that  is  all  he  brought  with  him  to  Venice.  On  the 
last  Sunday  but  one  before  the  end  of  the  theatrical  year  (Carn., 
1751),  Gold,  had  not  even  the  subject  for  the  i6th  and  last  of 
the  series:  /  Pettegolezzi  delle  donne  (Mem.  I,  p.  355)/  The 
first  ed.  of  32  was  issued  after  April  24,  1751,  (Spinelli,  Bibl. 
gold.,  p.  21 ),  and  Gold.,  therefore,  had  time  to  suit  the  printed 
list  to  the  facts  as  they  had  occurred,  although  there  is  evidence 
(Mem.  L,  p.  352)  that  on  Oct.  5,  1750,  he  gave  several  titles  to 
which  he  wrote  comedies  during  the  year. 

Comparing  the  list  of  16  titles  in  32  with  the  list  in  Mem.  I., 
p.  327,  we  see  i°,  that  the  latter  gives  only  15  titles;  2°  that  the 
former  has  I  Poeti  (II  Poeta  fanatico),  and  //  Vero  amico,  which 
the  latter  omits;  3°,  that  the  latter  mentions  La  Famiglia  dell'  an- 
tiquario  (30).  This  play  is  mentioned  in  32,  but  not  in  the  list 
of  16;  act  I,  9  refers  to  it  under  its  sub-title,  La  Suocera  e  la 
nuora,  as  already  performed  and  known.  Besides,  the  Sonetto  of 
Feb.  10,  1750  (Malamani,  op.  cit.,  p.  32.)  includes  it  among  the 
comedies  performed  during  the  season  then  ending.  Again,  the 
Paperini  ed.,  vol.  IV,  gives  its  date  as  Venice,  Cam.,  1749  (the- 
atrical year).  Number  30,  therefore,  does  not  belong  to  the  16 
comedies. 

The  Complimento,  first  published  by  Foffano  (Nuovo  Archivio 
Veneto,  vol.  XVIII,  p.  227)  in  1899,  though  recited  by  Mme. 
Medebac  at  end  of  Carn.  1751,  mentions  the  16  titles  of  //  Teatro 
comico  in  the  order  given  in  that  play.  Its  2ist  stanza,  how- 
ever, refers  to  an  Arlecchino  finto  moreto.  This  is,  as  Mal- 
amani  points  out,  evidently  an  improvised  comedy,  performed  in 
another  Venetian  theatre  at  the  time  when  La  Donna  volubile 
(46)  was  failing  and  for  which  the  public  was  leaving  the  Sant' 


APPENDICES  607 

Angelo  theatre,  as  the  text  of  the  stanza  abundantly  shows. 
Maddalena  in  Una  diavoleria  di  titoli  e  di  cifre  suggests  that 
Arlecchino  finto  moreto  was  but  another  title  for  30;  yet,  this 
would  lead  to  the  conclusion  that  30  belongs  to  the  16  comedies, 
or  that  17,  not  16,  new  plays  were  given  by  Gold,  during  the 
theatrical  year  1750-51. 

_  The  list  in  Gold.'s  memoirs  being  manifestly  in  error,  and  the 
list  in  //  Teatro  comico  being  supported  by  the  Complimento 
above  mentioned,  the  second  list  is  here  chosen  as  authority. 

Aut.  32.— IL  TEATRO  COMICO  (Part  of  2d  and  3d  acts  is  occu- 
pied by  a  farce,  //  Padre  rivale  del  figlio).  4  masks  "in  statu 
naturae."  Oct.  5  (Gradenigo,  Notatorj],  but  first  at  Milan,  Summ. 
(Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  IV,  Nota  storica  to  32).  First  ed.  1751,  vol. 
II,  Bett. 

Sources:  Moliere,  La  Critique  de  I1  ecole  des  femmes,  L'lm- 
promptu  de  Versailles.  Number  5,  of  A,  i ;  and  4,  5,  6,  7,  8  of  A, 
4.  (Actors),  14. 

33.— LE  FEMMINE  PUNTIGLIOSE  (I  Puntigli  delle  donne}. 
3  masks.  Oct.  10  (Spinelli,  Fogli  spar  si,  p.  13),  but  first  at  Man- 
tua, April  18  (Vol.  VI,  Bett.  1753,  which  is  first  ed.). 

Sources:  Moliere,  Le  Bourgeois  gentilhomme.  Dancourt,  Le 
Chevalier  a  la  mode,  Les  Bourgeoises.  Hauteroche,  Les  Bour- 
geoises de  qualite.  D'Allainval,  L'Ecole  des  bourgeois.  G.  B. 
Fagiuoli,  La  Nobilta  vuol  richezze  owero  il  Conte  di  Bucotondo 
(1734).  G.  C.  Becelli,  La  Pazzia  delle  pompe  (1748).  Nelli,  La 
Moglie  in  calzoni  (1727).  (Cicisbeism),  20,  21,  26,  27,  30. 

34.— LA  BOTTEGA  DEL  (DI,  DA)  CAFFE  (//  Maldicente 
alia  bottega  del  caffe).  First  Ven.,  later  Tuscan;  first  with  2 
masks,  later  with  none.  Oct.,  but  first  in  Mantua,  May  2  (Vol. 
IV,  Bett.,  1753,  which  is  first  ed.). 

Sources:  Destouches,  Le  Medisant.  Cresset,  Le  Mechant. 
Gold.'s  interlude  of  same  title.  Voltaire  has  probably  imitated  34 
in  Le  Cafe  ou  L'Ecossaise,  Lessing  in  Minna  von  Barnhelm,  Alber- 
gati  in  his  Ciarlator  maldicente.  (Gaming),  25. 

35. — IL  BUGIARDO.  4  masks.  Aut.,  but  first  in  Mantua,  May 
23  (Medebac  in  vol.  IV,  Bett.,  1753,  which  is  first  ed.). 

Sources:  Pierre  Corneille,  Le  Menteur,  Suite  du  Menteur. 
Alarcon,  La  Verdad  sospechosa.  Romagnesi,  La  Feinte  inutile. 
Maddalena  suggests  that  serenade  in  Act  I,  i  may  be  that  sung  by 
Agnese  Amurat  in  1732  under  the  windows  of  the  aunt  and  her 
niece,  to  whom  Gold,  was  paying  court  simultaneously  (Mun.  of 
Ven.,  vol.  IV,  Nota  storica;  Mem.  I,  p.  150). 

36.— L'ADULATORE.  3  masks.  Aut.,  but  first  in  Mantua, 
spring  (Spinelli,  Bibl.  gold.,  p.  23).  First  ed.  1753,  vol.  IV, 
Bett. 

Sources:  J.  B.  Rousseau,  Le  Flatteur.  Moliere,  Tartuffe,  and 
L'Avare.  (Cicisbeism),  20,  21,  26,  27,  30,  33. 


608  APPENDICES 

37.— IL  POETA  FANATICO  (I  Poeti,  Le  Gare  fra  i  poeti). 
Verse  and  prose,  2  masks.  Aut.,  but  first  at  Milan,  Sep.  5  (Pap., 
vol.  VIII).  First  ed.  1753,  vol.  VII,  Belt. 

In  letter  to  Vendramin,  Bologna,  Aug.  21,  1759  (Mantovani), 
Gold,  describes  as  last  of  9  plays  he  promises  for  1759-60,  a  play 
over  which  Polymnia,  the  Muse  of  rhetoric,  shall  preside.  "  It 
will  be  written  in  versi  liberi,  now  in  blank,  than  in  rhymed 
verse;  now  in  terzetti,  then  in  Martellian  lines."  This  descrip- 
tion tallies  with  the  form  of  37  as  printed  in  vol  XX,  Zatta. 
Mantovani  calls  the  projected  play  //  Poeta  fanatico.  There  is 
no  record  of  this  title  among  the  plays  given  in  1759-60  or 
after. 

Sources:  Girolamo  Baruffaldi,  //  Poeta  (1734).  Desmarets  de 
Saint-Sorlin,  Les  Visionnaires  (1637),  transl.  into  It.  by  Pellegrino 
Rossi  (1737)-  Luisa  Bergalli,  Le  Adventure  del  poeta  (1730). 
Piron,  Le  Metromanie  (for  Damis).  Moliere,  Le  Misanthrope 
(for  Oronte),  and  Les  Femmes  savantes  (for  Vadius  and  Tris- 
sotin). 

38.— PAMELA  NUBILE  (La  Pamela,  Pamela  putta,  Pamela 
fanciulla).  Aut.,  but  first  at  Milan,  summ.  (Spinelli,  Bibl.  gold., 
p.  23).  First  ed.  1753,  vol.  V,  Bett. 

Gold,  says:  "  Provai  una  Commedia  senza  le  Maschere,  e 
questa  fu  la  Pamela;  vidi  che  non  dispiacque,  ed  io  ne  feci  alcun* 
altre,  felici  tutte  egualmente."  (Pasq.,  vol.  II,  p.  io).  See,  how- 
ever, number  7  and  Mem.  I,  p.  221. 

Pamela  is  last  among  the  16  comedies,  written  at  Mantua  or 
Milan. 

Sources:  Richardson,  Pamela,  of  which  It.  transl.  was  printed 
by  Bett.  in  1744-45.  Voltaire,  Nanine,  but  Merz  (p.  36)  denies 
this  source.  (Foreigners),  21. 

39.— IL  CAVALIERE  DI  BUON  GUSTO  (L'Uomo  di  gusto). 
4  masks.  Dec.  n  (Spinelli,  op.  cit.,  p.  24).  First  ed.  1753,  vol. 
VI,  Bett. 

Sources:  Moliere,  Don  Juan,  ou  le  Festin  de  pierre.  (Cicis- 
beism),  20,  21,  26,  27,  30,  33,  36.  (Gold.'s  ideal  of  a  man  of  the 
world:  Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  V,  Nota  storica  to  39),  io,  n. 

40.— IL  GIUOCATORE.  3  masks.  End  of  Aut.  (Malamani, 
L'Ateneo  veneto  a  C.  G.f  p.  41).  First  ed.  1754,  vol.  V,  Pap. 

Sources:  Regnard,  Le  Joueur.  Luigi  Riccoboni,  //  Giuocatore, 
scenario  perf.  Paris,  1718.  (Gaming),  25,  34.  Also  Gold.'s  ex- 
perience with  young  Paduan  who,  in  1730,  on  boat  to  and  at 
Ferrara  cheated  him  at  Cala  Carte  and  at  Bassetta  (Pasq.,  vol. 
IX).  Act  III,  2  of  play  harks  back  to  night  Gold,  spent  playing 
Bassetta  at  Padua  in  1731,  when  next  morning  he  came  up  for 
examination  for  degree  of  Doctor  of  Law.  Having  lost  all  his 
money,  he  pawned  diamond  pin  the  lady  he  then  courted  had 
given  him.  Similarly,  Florindo  pawns  Rosaura's  jewel  (Pasq., 
vol.  X,  p.  6). 


APPENDICES  609 

Dec.        41.— IL    VERO    AMICO.    First   with   masks.    Dec.   26    (Mala- 

26.       mani,  ibid.).     First  ed.,  1753,  vol.  IV,  Pap. 

Sources:  Plautus,  Aulularla.  Moliere,  L'Avare,  Les  Femmes 
savantes.  Luigi  Riccoboni,  La  Force  de  I'amitie,  scenario  perf. 
Paris,  1717.  Flaminio  Scala,  //  Fido  amlco,  scenario.  Boccaccio, 
//  Decamerone,  Giorn.  X,  Novella  8.  For  question  of  Diderot's 
plagiarism  in  Le  Fils  naturel  from  this  play,  see  Gold.'s  denial  in 
Pasq.,  vol.  VII,  and  Maddalena  in  Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  V. 

1751.       42.— LA  FINTA  AMMALATA  (Lo  Speclale  o  sia  la  Finta  am- 
Carn.  malata,  Lo   Speciale  balordo).     i   mask.     Carn.    (List  in   32,   Act 

I,  2).     First  ed.  1753,  vol.  IV,  Pap. 

Sources:    Moliere,  L' Amour  medecin.     Cecchi,  La  Flnta  amma- 

lata.     Protagonist  a  portrait  of  Mme.  Medebac. 

43.— LA  DAMA  PRUDENTE  (La  Donna  prudente).  Carn. 
(List  in  32,  Act  I,  2).  First  ed.  1753,  vol.  VII,  Pap. 

Sources:  A.  G.  Brignole  Sale,  Geloso  non  geloso.  J.  A.  Nelli, 
//  Geloso  disinvolto.  Campistron,  Le  Jaloux  desabuse.  (Cicis- 
beism),  20,  21,  26,  27,  30,  33,  36,  39. 

44.— L'INCOGNITA  PERSEGUITATA  (L'lncognita,  L'lncog- 
nita  perseguitata  dal  bravo  impertinente).  3  masks.  Carn.  (List 
in  32).  First  ed.  1754,  vol.  VIII,  Pap. 

Source:     See  Mem.  I,  p.  352. 

45.— L'AVVENTURIERE  ONORATO.  Guglielmo  first  a  Pan- 
taloon, and  his  role  in  Ven.  (Pap.  vol.  III).  Feb.  13  (Vol.  V, 
Bett.,  1753,  which  is  first  ed.). 

Source:  Goldoni's  life.  (Physicians),  42.  (Jurisprudence),  15, 
19,  20,  26,  29,  31. 

46.— LA  DONNA  VOLUBILE.  3  masks.  Feb.  (see  45).  First 
ed.  1755,  vol.  VIII,  Pap. 

Sources:  Destouches,  L'Irresolu.  For  Act  I,  13,  Moliere,  Don 
Juan,  ou  le  Festin  de  plerre  (Act  II,  5  &  6)  ;  see  also  L'Ecole  des 
femmes,  L'Ecole  des  marts.  The  capricious  actress  Caterina 
Landi. 

47.— I  PETTEGOLEZZI  DELLE  DONNE.  Ven.,  2  masks. 
Ends  Cam.,  Feb.  23,  being  last  of  the  16  comedies.  First  ed.  1753, 
Vol.  V,  Bett. 

Source:     See  Mem.  I,  p.  355.     (Venetian  life),  10,  23,  34. 
Aut.         48.— IL  MOLIERE.     Mart,    (ist  time),  5  acts.     Oct.  4,  but  first 
in  Turin,  Aug.  28    (Bett.,  vol.  IV,  1753,  which  is  first  ed.). 

Sources:  Grimarest,  La  Vie  de  M.  de  Moliere.  Anonymous,  La 
Fameuse  comedienne,  ou  Histoire  de  la  Guerin,  auparavant  femme 
et  veuve  de  Moliere.  Moliere,  Tartuffe.  Gigli,  La  Sorellina  di 
Don  Pilone. 

49.— LA  CASTALDA.  3  masks.  Oct.  First  ed.  1753 ;  vol.  VII, 
Bett. 


6io  APPENDICES 

In  Pap.,  vol.  VII,  preface  to  La  Donna  vendicativa  (63),  Gold, 
mentions  in  their  order  40  comedies  and  libretti  written  for 
Medebac  under  contract  of  1749.  There  49  follows  //  Mo  Here,  of 
which  date  is  certain.  In  Pap.,  vol.  VIII,  however,  date  of  49 
is  given  as  Aut.,  1752.  In  Mem.  I,  p.  382,  Gold,  says  he  gave  it  to 
Medebac  at  end  of  Cam.,  1753.  See  Mem.  II,  p.  87.  Authority 
adopted  nearest  the  event. 

Source:  (Villeggiatura),  u.  Written  to  fit  the  servetta  Mad- 
dalena  Marliani. 

50.— L'AMANTE  MILITARE.  3  masks.  Aut.  (Pap.,  vol.  V; 
preface  to  63 — see  note  to  49 — confirms).  First  ed.  1755,  vol.  V, 
Pap. 

Source:  See  Mem.  I,  p.  177,  et  seq.;  p.  186  et  seq.,  and  p.  256 
et  seq. 

1752.  51.— IL  TUTORE.  3  masks.  Jan.  4  (Bett.,  vol.  V,  1753,  which 
Cam.  is  first  ed.). 

Sources:     Dufresny,  Le  Negligent.    Gold.'s  interlude,  LaPupilla. 

52.— LA  MOGLIE  SAGGIA  (//  Trionfo  della  prudenza  in 
Rosaura  moglie  amorosa,  La  Moglie  amoroso}.  3  masks.  Cam. 
(Preface  to  63;  Ded.  to  La  Serva  amorosa — 55 — ,Pap.,  vol.  I,  p. 
319).  First  ed.  1753,  vol.  VI,  Bett. 

Sources:  Chiari,  La  Moglie  saggia,  in  its  turn  imitated  from 
26.  G.  A.  Costantini,  La  Dama  ossia  la  Saggia  moglie  (1751). 
Moliere's  process  of  having  valets  repeat  scenes  enacted  between 
their  masters.  (Cicisbeism),  20,  21,  26,  27,  30,  33,  36,  39,  43. 

53.— IL  FEUDATARIO  (//  Marchese  di  Monte  Fosco).  2 
masks.  Feb.  7  (Bett.,  vol.  VII,  1753,  which  is  first  ed.). 

Source:     See  Pasq.,  vol.  XVI,  preface. 

54.— LE  DONNE  GELOSE.  Ven.,  i  mask.  Feb.  12,  ending 
Cam.  (Bett.,  vol.  VI,  1753,  which  is  first  ed.). 

Sources:     (Venetian  life),  10,  23,  34,  47.     (Gaming),  25,  34,  40. 

Aut.  55.— LA  SERVA  AMOROSA.  3  masks.  Oct.,*  but  first  at 
Bologna,  spring  (Pasq.,  vol.  Ill,  p.  73 ;  Neri,  Aneddoti  gold.,  p. 
78).  First  ed.  1753,  vol.  I,  Pap. 

Sources:  Moliere,  Le  Malade  imaginaire.  ].  A.  Nelli,  La 
Moglie  in  calzoni.  Basilio  Locatelli,  //  Vecchio  avaro  overo  li 
scritti,  scenario  not  later  than  1618.  (Stepmothers),  27. 

56.— I  PUNTIGLI  DOMESTICI.  4  masks.  Oct.,  but  first  in 
Milan,  summ.  (Preface  to  63,  Pap.).  First  ed.  1754,  vol.  VI,  Pap. 

Sources:  Racine,  Les  Plaideurs.  (Jurisprudence),  15,  19,  20, 
26,  29,  31,  45.  (Domestic  quarrels),  30,  39,  47. 

57.— LA  FIGLIA  OBBEDIENTE.  3  masks.  Aut.  (Pasq.,  vol. 
VIII).  First  ed.  1754,  vol.  VI,  Pap. 

*  Gold.'s  letter,  Oct.  7,  1752  (Spinelli,  Fogli  sparsi) :  "  Mar- 
tedi  si  aprirono  li  Teatri.  Al  nostro  di  Sant'  Angelo  si  diede 
principio  con  il  Tutore,  e  la  seconda  sera  si  pose  in  scena  la 
Serva  amorosa,  la  quale  si  seguita  tuttavia  a  rappresentarsi  .  .  ." 


APPENDICES  611 

Source:     (Actors),  14,  32. 

58. — I  MERCANTI  (7  Due  Pantaloni,  I  Mercatanti).  First 
with  4  masks,  later  with  none.  Probably  Dec.  26  (Pasq.,  vol.  IX). 
First  ed.  1754,  vol.  V,  Pap. 

Sources:  The  Pantaloon  Collalto's  ability,  he  playing  both 
father  and  son  in  58.  (Commerce),  14,  26.  (Avarice),  41. 
(Physicians),  42,  45.  (Foreigners),  21,  38. 

»753-  59.— LA  LOCANDIERA  (Gil  Amanti  in  locanda,  11  Cavaliere 
Cam.  dl  Ripafratta  o  sla  il  Marchese  di  Forlipopoli).  Jan.  (In  Act  I, 
9  the  Cav.  reads  letter  dated  Jan.  i,  1753).  First  ed.  1753,  vol. 
II,  Pap. 

Sources:  Marivaux,  La  Surprise  de  I' amour,  Les  Serments  in- 
discrets.  Moliere,  La  Princesse  d'Elide.  Development  of  Miran- 
dolina  traceable  through  n,  15,  21,  37,  49,  50,  56. 

60.— LE  DONNE  CURIOSE.  3  masks.  Cam.  (Mem.  I,  p.  382). 
First  ed.  1753,  vol.  IV,  Pap. 

Sources:  See  Masi,  Scelta  etc.,  vol.  I,  p.  455  et  seq.,  and  Mad- 
dalena,  Nota  storica,  vol.  IX,  Mun.  of  Ven.  Francesco  Grisellini, 
/  Libert  muratori  (1652).  (Cicisbeism),  20,  21,  26,  27,  30,  33,  36, 
39,  43,  52. 

61.— IL  CONTRATTEMPO  o  sia  IL  CHIACCHIERONE  IM- 
PRUDENTE  (L'Imprudente,  L'Uomo  imprudente}.  2  masks. 
Carn.,  ending  March  6.  First  ed.  1754,  vol.  VIII,  Pap. 

See  Mem.  I,  p.  382.  But  pref.  to  63,  vol.  VII,  Pap.  (note  to 
49)  gives  6 1  as  part  of  the  ten  works  for  this  year  (see  contract). 
Its  performance  followed  that  of  60  under  title  of  L'Uomo  im- 
prudente. Date  in  first  ed. :  Cam.,  1752,  is  more  veneto,  or 
theatrical  year  1752-53.  Zatta  date:  Aut,  1757,  is  out  of  the 
question,  since  Gold,  states  in  first  ed.  that  he  rewrote  61  in 
1754- 

Sources:  Eight  scenari  derived  from  Nicolo  Barbieri  (Bel- 
trame),  Inavertito  overo  Scappino  disturbato  e  Mezzetino  travag- 
liato  (Emilio  Re,  in  Rivista  teatrale,  1910),  from  which  Moliere 
derived  L'Etourdi  ou  le  contretemps.  Luigi  Riccoboni,  Le  Sincere 
a  contretemps,  Paris,  1717.  Moliere,  L'Ecole  des  femmes,  L'Ecole 
des  marls. 

62.— IL  SENSALE  DI  MATRIMONI.    Before  April  28.    Lost. 

Lettera  dell'  avvocato  Carlo  Goldoni  ad  un  suo  amico  in 
Venezia,  Florence,  April  28,  1753,  printed  as  announcement  to 
Pap.  (Urbani  de  Gheltof,  Letter  e  di  C.  G.;  Spinelli,  Fogli  sparsi, 
p.  25,  note):  "  /  Poeti  principalmente  e  una  commedia  che  non 
sta,  non  si  puo  stampare.  La  Donna  volubile,  11  Sensale  di 
matrimoni  non  possono  correre  assolutamente  cosl." 

Aut.  63.— LA  DONNA  VENDICATIVA.  i  mask.  Aut.  (Maddalena, 
Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  IX,  Nota  storica}.  First  ed.  1754,  vol.  VII, 
Pap. 


6ia  APPENDICES 

Maddalena  (ibid.)  seems  to  disprove  Gold.'s  statement  in  Mem. 
I,  p.  382  by  means  of  preface  to  63.  Not  counting  24,  28, 
and  62,  for  obvious  reasons,  this  catalogue  presents  a  corroborated 
record  of  forty-three  plays  given  by  Goldoni  to  Medebac  in  the 
five  years  of  his  connection  with  the  Sant'  Angelo.  Supposing 
that  the  agreement  of  Sept.  1747  called  for  eight  plays  during  the 
first  year,  Goldoni  contracted  to  write  forty  plays  for  Medebac. 
He  presented  the  manager,  therefore,  with  three  plays,  as  he  says 
in  the  Memoirs. 

Sources:  J.  A.  Nelli,  La  Serva  padrona  (1731).  G.  A.  Fed- 
erico,  La  Serva  padrona  (1733),  an  interlude.  Written  for  the 
servetta  Maddalena  Marliani,  who  had  also  inspired  49,  55,  56, 
59,  60. 

For  the  Brothers  Fendramin,  San  Luca  Theatre,  Venice. 

The  first  contract,  with  Antonio,  in  force  from  first  day  of  Lent, 
1753,  calls  for  8  plays  a  year;  the  second,  with  Francesco,  ap- 
plying from  March  i,  1757,  demands  6  plays  annually,  but  al- 
lows 9 ;  the  third,  with  Francesco,  dated  March  2,  1762,  covering 
Gold.'s  stay  in  France  "  per  il  corso  di  anni  due  circa,"  requires 
such  original  comedies  as  he  is  able  to  send.  All  forbid  Gold.'s 
writing  comedies  for  theatres  in  Venice  other  than  the  San  Luca, 
and  his  publishing  them  before  three  years  shall  have  passed 
after  their  first  performance  (Mantovani). 

1753.  64.— IL  GELOSO  AVARO.  2  masks,  the  Dottore  and  Arlec- 
Aut.  chino  being  present  also,  but  in  modified  form.  Oct.  (Pasq.,  vol. 
XII,  p.  186),  but  first  in  Leghorn,  spring  (Pitt.,  vol.  I,  1757,  which 
is  first  ed.). 

Sources:  Moliere,  L'Avare.  (Avarice),  41,  58.  (Jealousy),  30, 
33,  43,  54-  f  (Cicisbeism),  20,  21,  26,  27,  30,  33,  36,  39,  43,  52,  60. 
See  Pasq.,  ibid.,  or  Mem.  II,  p.  4. 

65.— LA  DONNA  DI  TESTA  DEBOLE  o  sia  LA  VEDOVA 
INFATUATA  (L'Uomo  sincero).  2  masks,  Dottore  and  Arlec- 
chino  as  in  64.  Aut.,  but  first  in  Leghorn,  Summ.  (Pitt.,  vol.  I, 
1757,  which  is  first  ed.).  First  play  written  for  San  Luca  (ibid.). 

Sources:  Moliere,  Les  Femmes  savantes,  Le  Misanthrope. 
Fatonville,  La  Fille  savante.  J.  A.  Nelli,  La  Dottoressa  preziosa. 
J  66.— LA  SPOSA  PERSIANA.  Tragi-comedy,  Mart.,  5  acts. 
Aut.  (Pitt.,  vol.  I;  Pasq.,  vol.  XIII).  Ran  32  or  34  nights  (Pasq., 
vol.  XVII  or  XIII).  Third  play  written  for  San  Luca.  First  ed. 
1757,  vol.  I,  Pitt. 

Source:  A  History  of  Modern  Times  or  Present  State  of  All 
Nations,  London,  1731  (Mem.  II,  p.  6).  ty  TVwo>v»vaA  ,£>  o£/w*y\v 

67.— LA  CAMERIERA  BRILLANTE.  3  masks.  Follows  66 
(Mem.  II,  p.  22)  ;  may  open  Cam.  (Pitt.,  vol.  II;  Zatta,  vol.  XX). 
First  ed.  1757,  vol.  II,  Pitt. 

Sources:  Guelette,  Les  Comediens  par  hazard,  Paris,  1718.  A. 
Passanti  (ed.),  La  Commedia  in  commedia,  in  the  Zibaldone 


APPENDICES  613 

comico,   etc.    (Ms.).     (Villeggiatura),    n,   49.     (Serva    padrona), 
49,  63. 

68. — LA  MASCHERA.  Scenario  in  part.  1753  (Mem.  II,  p. 
354).  Lost. 

I754-        69.— IL  FILOSOFO  INGLESE.     Mart.,  5  acts.    Jan.  4  (Ziliotto, 
Cam.  C.  G.  e  I'lstna;  Neri,  Aneddoti  gold.,  p.  74,  note).    First  ed.  1757, 

vol.  I,  Pitt. 

Source:    Addison,  etc.,  The  Spectator.     It.  transl.   (Venice,  1752) 

of    Elizabeth    Haywood's    French    transl.,    La    Spectatrice.     (For* 

eigners),  21,  38,  58. 

70.— IL  VECCHIO  BIZZARRO  (//  Cortesan  vecchio).     3  masks. 

rCarn.  (Pasq.,  vol.  XVII,  p.  155).     First  ed.  1757,  vol.  II,  Pitt. 
Sources:     (Man  of  the  world),  10,  n,  39. 
71.— IL  FESTINO.     Mart.,   5   acts.     Ends   Cam.    (Pitt.,  vol.   II, 
1757,  which  is  first  ed.).     Changed  to  prose  for  Tordinona  theatre, 
Rome  (Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  XV,  p.  271). 
Sources:     Moliere,    Critique  de   I'ecole  des  femmes.     See   Pasq., 
vol.  XVII,  p.  154,  and  Mem.  II,  p.  34.     (Cicisbeism),  20,  21,  26, 
27,  30,  33,  36,  39,  43,  52,  60,  64. 

Summ.  72.—L'IMPOSTORE.  4  masks.  Written  at  Modena  for  Father 
Giambattista  Roberti,  Summ.  (Bonfanti,  La  Data  dell'  Impostore; 
Maddalena,  Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  XI,  p.  199).  First  ed.  1754,  vol. 
VII,  Pap. 

Sources:  (Jurisprudence),  15,  19,  20,  26,  29,  31,  45,  56.  (Mili- 
tarism), 50.  Pasq.,  vol.  XVII,  p.  6,  and  Mem.  I,  p.  248. 

Aut.  73.— LA  MADRE  AMOROSA.  3  masks.  Oct.,  but  first  in 
Genoa,  spring  (Pitt.,  vol.  Ill,  or  Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  XI:  Intro- 
duzione  per  la  prima  recita  d'autunno  1754). 

Ready  for  Cam.  of  preceding  season,  but  postponed  owing  to 
quarrel  between  prima  donna  Gandini  and  servetta  Bresciani 
over  principal  role. 

Source:    Nivelle  de  la  Chausee  and  the  "  comedie  larmoyante." 

74. — IL  TERENZIO.  Mart.,  5  acts.  Aut.  (Letter  from  Gas- 
paro  Gozzi,  Nov.  2,  1754,  in  Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  XI,  p.  392). 
First  ed.  1758,  vol.  Ill,  Pitt. 

Sources:  Pitisco,  Lexicon  antiquitatum  romanorum.  Moreri, 
Dictionnaire  historique.  It.  transl.  of  Terence  by  Luisa  Ber- 
galli  (1739),  or  Nicolo  Fortiguerri  (1748).  Regnard,  Democrite. 
Moliere,  Amphitrion.  (Lives  of  authors),  48. 

75.— LA  PERUVIANA.  Tragi-comedy,  Mart.,  5  acts.  Aut. 
(Spinelli,  Fogli  sparsi,  p.  33;  Pasq.,  vol.  XV,  p.  159).  First  ed. 
1757,  vol.  Ill,  Pitt. 

Source:     Franchise  Graffigny,  Les  Lettres  d'une  Peruvienne. 
1755.       76.— IL  TORQUATO  TASSO.     Mart.,  5  acts.     Cam.   (Spinelli, 
Cam.  op.  cit. ;  Pacq.,  vol.  XVI;  Pitt.,  vol.  Ill,  1757,  which  is  first  ed.). 


614  APPENDICES 

Sonrces:  Moreri,  Dictionnaire  historlque.  See  preface  to  76. 
(Lives  of  authors),  48,  74. 

77.— IL  CAVALIERE  GIOCONDO  (I  Viaggiatori} .  Mart.,  5 
acts.  Carn.  (Spinelli,  ibid;  Pitt.,  vol.  IV,  1758,  which  is  first  ed.). 

Sources:  Scipione  Maffei,  Raguet.  J.  A.  Nelli,  //  Viaggiatore 
affettato.  Bartoli,  /  Viaggiatori,  scenario,  Paris,  1754.  Moliere, 
Georges  Dandin,  Le  Bourgeois  gentilhomme.  (Struggle  between 
bourgeoisie  and  aristocracy),  30,  33,  38,  59.  (Cicisbeism),  20,  21, 
26,  27,  30,  33,  36,  39,  43,  52,  60,  64,  71. 

78.— LE  MASSERE  (Le  Massare).  Ven.,  Mart.,  5  acts.  Ends 
Cam.,  Feb.  n  (Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  XII,  p.  216).  First  ed.  1758, 
vol.  IV,  Pitt. 

Two  plays  less  than  full  quota  for  1754-55.  Gold,  says  (Mem. 
II,  p.  31):  "  Je  revins  a  Venise  avec  assez  de  materiaux  pour 
Pannee  comiaue  1754,  et  je  fis  1'ouverture  par  une  piece  intitulee 
La  Villeggiatura."  And  ibid.,  p.  71 :  "  Je  fis  succeder  a  celle-ci 
(La  Peruviana)  une  comedie  en  prose,  intitulee  Un  Curio  so  acci- 
dente."  But  in  letter  of  Apr.  5,  1755  (Spinelli,  Fogli  sparsi)  he 
says:  "  L'Anno  scorso  e  stato  per  me  non  poco  calamitoso.  Ne  ha 
risentito  anche  il  Teatro  mio,  poiche  in  luogo  d'otto  commedie 
cinque  sole  ho  potuto  fame."  He  then  mentions  74,  75,  76,  77,  78. 
This  statement  corroborated  in  preface  to  46  (Pap.):  "  Egli  e 
vero  die  in  quest'  anno,  a  causa  delle  malattie  sudette  .  .  .  cinque 
Commedie  solo,  in  luogo  delle  otto  promesse,  mi  riusci  di  com- 
pire." 

Sources:  The  Latin  Tabernia:.  Sophron,  Mimes.  J.  A.  Nelli, 
Le  Serve  al  forno.  (Venetian  life),  10,  23,  34,  47,  54. 

Summ.  79.— LA  FIERA.  Bagnoli,  district  of  Padua,  for  Count  Widi- 
man  (Mem.  II,  p.  50).  Lost. 

80.— I  MALCONTENTI.  Summ.,  Verona  (Gold.'s  letter,  Aug. 
3,  1755,  Mantovani). 

Intended  for  Aut.,  but  vetoed  by  the  Censors  as  it  contained 
an  attack  on  Chiari  (Mantovani,  Letter  II).  Not  perf.  in  Venice 
(ibid.,  Vendramin  on  Dec.  30,  1758):  "  Fu  impedita  in  altro 
tempo  la  recita  de'  Malcontenti  .  .  .  e  fu  a  loro  credere  un  effetto 
di  politica  prudenza."  Maddalena  (Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  XII) 
finds  first  trace  of  a  perf.  after  Verona  at  Modena  in  1759. 

First  ed.  1758,  vol.  IV,  Pitt. 

Sources:  (Villeggiatura),  n,  49,  67.  (Jurisprudence),  15,  19, 
20,  26,  29,  31,  45,  56,  72. 

Aut.  81.— LA  BUONA  FAMIGLIA.  Opens  Aut.  (Mantovani,  Let- 
ter II).  One  perf.  (Neri,  Aneddoti,  p.  8).  First  ed.  1758,  vol. 
IV,  Pitt. 

Sources:  (Cicisbeism),  20,  21,  26,  27,  30,  33,  36,  39,  43,  52,  60, 
64,  7i,  77- 

82.— LE  DONNE  DI  CASA  SOA  (Le  Donne  casalinghe).  Ven., 
Mart.,  5  acts.  Aut.  (Mantovani,  p.  74;  Pitt.,  vol.  V,  1758,  which 
is  first  ed.). 


APPENDICES  615 

Sources:  J.  A.  Nelli,  La  Moglie  in  calzoni.  Fagiuoli,  //  Marito 
alia  moda.  Gorino  Corio,  //  Frippon  francese  colla  dama  alia 
moda.  (Venetian  life),  10,  23,  34,  47,  54,  78.  (Bourgeois  virtue), 
20,  27,  54,  58,  73,  81. 

83.— IRC  AN  A  IN  JULFA.  Tragi-comedy,  Mart.  Aut.  (Man- 
tovani,  letter  of  Aug.  3,  1755;  Mem.  II,  p.  14;  Pasq.,  vol.  XIII, 
p.  25).  First  ed.  1758,  vol.  V,  Pitt. 

Source:     Number  66,  to  which  it  is  a  sequel. 

84.— LA  VILLEGGIATURA.  Dec.  (Mazzoni,  Mem.  II,  note  to 
p.  53).  First  ed.  1758,  vol.  V,  Pitt. 

First  ed.  and  Zatta  give  Cam.  1756.  Maddalena,  assigning  no 
date,  says :  "  Quanto  sia  vissuta  questa  Villeggiatura  sotto  Pegide 
delP  autore  non  si  sa "  (Mun.  of  Yen.,  vol.  XIII).  Mazzoni 
(Mem.  II)  gives  no  authority,  unless  in  the  note  to  p.  52  where 
Gold,  is  shown  to  have  4  plays  ready  in  Dec.  1755.  Page 
52  reads:  "  Apres  cette  Piece  en  vers  (77),  j'en  donnai  une  qui, 
malgre  le  desavantage  de  la  prose,  etc.  .  .  .  Vous  verrez,  mon 
cher  lecteur,  qu'en  vous  donnant,  dans  le  Chapitre  vingt-septieme 
[read  23me],  Textrait  d'une  Comedie  intitulee  la  Partie  de  Cam- 
pagne  (84),  je  dis  que  j'avais  trois  autres  Pieces  sur  le  meme 
sujet,  et  en  voici  les  titres."  Goldoni  then  mentions  Le  Smanie — , 
Le  Awenture — ,  //  Ritorno  dalla  villeggiatura.  The  prose  play 
which  he  places  after  77  is,  therefore,  not  84,  as  Mazzoni  seems 
to  think,  but  Le  Smanie  della  Villeggiatura  (127). 

Of  80,  which  was  vetoed  by  the  Censors,  Gold,  says:  "La 
commedia  non  si  perdera  per  questo.  Cambiero  quell'  episodio, 
che  feriva  il  Chiari,  in  un  altro  ridicolo,  che  non  sara  fuor  di 
proposito;  e  basta,  che  la  commedia  si  faccia  dentro  1'autunno, 
perche  sia  1'argomento  suo  alia  stagione  adattato "  (Mantovani, 
p.  74).  Now,  as  Rabany  points  out,  Le  Smanie  is  but  a 
"replique"  of  80.  If  80  finally  passed  the  Censors  in  Aut.  1755, 
it  was  in  the  form  of  Le  Smanie,  not  in  that  of  84,  which  it  does 
not  resemble. 

Chapter  XXVII  (Mem.  II),  which  is  a  resume  of  Le  Smanie, 
ends  thus:  "  C'est  le  sujet  principal  de  la  seconde  Piece."  The 
next  chapter  begins:  "La  suite  de  la  Manie  de  la  Campagne 
que  je  donnai  une  annee  apres  la  premiere,  est  intitulee  les  A<ven- 
tures  de  la  Campagne"  The  Memoirs,  then,  place  84  in  Aut. 
1754,  and  Le  Smanie  in  Aut.  1755.  Furthermore,  chapter  XXX 
opens  thus:  "  Ayant  rapproche  1'abrege  de[s]  trois  Pieces,  qui 
avoient  etc  donnees  dans  trois  annees  differentes,"  ...  a  state- 
ment Gold,  had  made  some  20  years  earlier  in  Pasq.,  vol.  XI, 
p.  100 :  "  Queste  tre  Commedie  .  .  .  sono  state  separatemente 
rappresentate  con  una  distanza  di  qualche  tempo  dall'una  all' 
altra  .  .  .  Poteva  io  dunque  per  la  stessa  ragione  separarle  ne' 
Tomi  della  mia  novella  edizione."  The  3  numbers,  then,  of  the 
'Villeggiatura  trilogy  Gold,  places  at  three  different  dates. 

Mazzoni  seems  to  destroy  those  dates  by  quoting  the  Jntrodu- 
zione  alle  recite  autunnali  del  1761.  It  proves  that  Le 
Smanie — ,  Le  Awenture — ,  and  //  Ritorno  dalla  evilleggiatura 
were  perf.  Aut.  1761.  But  if  we  consider  the  last  two  lines: 


616  APPENDICES 

"  Nella  terza  Commedia  allor  noi  pure. 
Delia  'villa  il  ritorno  avrem  studiato." 

in  connection  with  the  words  fin  ora  of  the  2d  line,  and  with  the 
5th  line: 

"  Vien  Pargomento  da  lontan  sentiero," 

the  quotation  seems  to  prove  only  that  //  Ritorno  dalla  villeggia- 
tura  was  first  perf.  Aut.  1761,  Le  Smanie  and  Le  Awenture  be- 
ing merely  repeated  then. 

Sources:  (Villeggiatura),  u,  49,  67,  80.  (Cicisbeism),  20,  21, 
26,  27,  30,  33,  36,  39,  43,  52,  60,  64,  71,  77,  81.  (Gaming),  25,  34, 
40,  54- 

1756.        85.— IL  RAGGIRATORE.     Jan.  10  (Gradenigo,  Cod.  67,  Museo 
Carn.  Correr;  his  Notatorj,  Jan.  19,  1756:  Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  XIII,  pp. 
285   &   198).     One  perf.    (Neri,   Aneddoti,  p.   6).     First   ed.    1758 
(sic.),  vol.  Ill,  Pitt. 

Sources:  Destouches,  Le  Glorieux.  (Jurisprudence),  15,  19,  20, 
26,  29,  31,  45,  56,  72,  80. 

86.— LA  DONNA  STRAVAGANTE.  Mart.,  Carn.  (Gradenigo, 
ibid.;  Gasparo  Gozzi  in  letter  Feb.  n,  1756:  Scritti  di  G.  G., 
scelti  ed  ord.  da  Tommaseo,  vol.  III).  First  ed.  1760,  vol.  VI, 
Pitt. 

Sources:     (Pert  women),  u,  15,  21,  37,  49,  50,  56,  59,  60,  63,  67. 

87.— IL  CAMPIELLO.  Ven.,  verse.  Feb.  20  (Gradenigo,  ibid.). 
First  ed.  1758  (sic),  vol.  V,  Pitt. 

Sources:     (Venetian  life),  10,  23,  34,  47,  54,  78,  82. 

W.—L'AVARO.  i  act.  Bologna,  Cam.  (Pasq.,  vol.  IV,  Mad- 
dalena  in  vol.  XIII,  Mun.  of  Ven.  commenting:  "  se  1'edizione 
Pasquali  non  erra;"  see  Mem.  II,  p.  139).  First  ed.  1762,  vol. 
IV,  Pasq. 

In  first  ed.,  p.  238,  Gold,  states  that  88  was  written  for  Alber- 
gati;  in  Ded.  of  vol.  X,  Pitt.,  Gold,  says  that  it  was  for  a  certain 
"compagnia  di  Dame  e  di  Cavalieri,"  not  connected  with  Alber- 
gati's  private  theatre. 

Sources:     Moliere,  L'Avare.     (Avarice),  41,  58,  64. 

Aut.  89.— L'AMANTE  DI  SE  MEDESIMO  (L'Amante  di  se  stesso  o 
I'Egoista).  Mart.,  5  acts.  Oct.  (Spinelli,  Fogli  sparsi,  Letter  Oct. 
9,  1756),  but  first  in  Milan,  Sept.  (Preface  to  89).  First  ed.  1760, 
vol.  VI,  Pitt. 

Sources:  J.  J.  Rousseau,  Narcisse,  ou  I'amant  de  lui-meme. 
(Egoism),  41,  54,  88. 

90.— IL  MEDICO  OLANDESE.  Mart.,  5  acts.  Before  Oct. 
30  (Spinelli,  op.  cit.,  Letter  Oct.  30,  1756).  First  ed.  1760,  vol. 
VI,  Pitt. 

Sources:  See  Mem.  II,  p.  79.  Doctor  Boerhave  represented  by 
Mons.  Bainer,  Gold,  by  Mons.  Guden,  Polacco  ipocondriaco. 


APPENDICES  617 

(Foreigners),  21,  38,  58,  69.  (Physicians),  42,  45,  58.  (Neuras- 
thenics), 51  (Ottawa),  89  (Don  Mauro). 

91.— IRCANA  IN  ISPAHAN  (Ircana  In  Ispaan).  Tragi-com- 
edy,  Mart.,  5  acts.  Between  Oct.  30  and  Dec.  14  (Spinelli,  op. 
cit.,  Letters  of  these  dates;  Pasq.,  vol.  XII,  p.  184).  First  ed. 
1760,  vol.  VI,  Pitt. 

Sources:    Numbers  66,  83,  to  which  it  is  a  sequel. 

92.— IL  BUON  COMPATRIOTTO.  Scenario  in  part,  3  masks. 
1756  (Mem.  II,  p.  354).  First  ed.  1790,  vol.  XV,  Zatta. 

1757-       93.— LA   DONNA    SOLA.     Mart.,    5    acts.     Jan.   4    (Gradenigo, 
Cam.  Notatorj;  Pitt.,  vol.  Ill,  pref.  to  85*).     First  ed.   1761,  vol.  VII, 

Pitt. 

Sources:    See  Mem.  II,  p.  117.     (Pert  women),  n,  15,  21,  37,  49, 

50,  56,  59,  60,  63,  67,  86. 

94.— LA  PUPILLA.  Sdruccioli  verse,  5  acts.  Written  in  1756; 
not  perf.  in  Venice  until  1830  (Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  XIV,  p.  253). 
First  ed.  1757,  vol.  X,  Pap. 

Sources:  Moliere,  L'Ecole  des  marls.  Dancourt,  Le  Tuteur. 
Regnard,  Les  Folies  amoureuses.  Fagiuoli,  Ciapo  tutore.  Gold.'s 
interlude,  La  Pupilla.  Ariosto's  and  Trissino's  style. 

95.— UN  CURIOSO  ACCIDENTE.  Cam.  (Mem.  II,  p.  71, 
where  it  is  placed  between  75  and  96,  and  in  close  proximity  to 
90).  First  ed.  1764-68,  vol.  VII,  Pasq. 

Relative  order  of  95,  96,  and  97  in  Memoirs,  Pasq.,  and  Zatta  is 
the  same.  Both  Pasq.  and  Zatta  were  under  Gold.'s  supervision, 
and  Pasq.  gives  one  hitherto  unpublished  play  each  vol.  It  is 
certain  that  96  comes  before  March,  1757.  (Note  to  96).  Until 
end  of  season  Gold.'s  contract  still  calls  for  8  plays  a  year,  and 
he  is  in  arrears.  In  the  absence  of  more  positive  indications  date 
adopted  for  95  seems  probable. 

Sources:  See  Mem.  II,  pp.  71  &  80,  and  Pasq.,  vol.  VII,  p.  100. 
(Foreigners),  21,  38,  58,  69,  90. 

96.— LA  DONNA  DI  MANEGGIO.  Cam.  (Mem.  II,  p.  73; 
note  to  95).  First  ed.  1764-68,  vol.  VIII,  Pasq. 

Play  dedicated  to  Mme.  du  Boccage.  First  ed.,  p.  18:  "  Quand' 
io  1'ho  dato  al  Teatro,  non  avea  1'onor  di  conoscervi,  che  per 
fama."  Gold,  met  Mme.  du  Boccage  after  March  i,  1757,  when 
he  returned  from  Parma  (Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  XIII,  p.  15;  Mem. 
II,  pp.  90,  373,  383). 

Sources:  Moliere,  L'Avare,  Le  Cocu  imaglnaire.  (Avarice), 
41,  58,  64,  88. 

97.— L'IMPRESARIO  DELLE  SMIRNE.  First  largely  Ven., 
Bolognese,  and  with  "i  riboboli  Fiorentini "  (Pasq.,  vol.  XII,  p. 

*  "  Similmente  in  quest'  anno  1757,  succese  una  cosa  simile  nella 
Rappresentazione  della  Donna  sola,  la  quale  precipito,  dopo  lo 
strepitoso  incontro  della  terza  Commedia  Persiana,  Ircana  in 
Ispaan  intitolata." 


6x8  APPENDICES 

269),  later  Tuscan;  first  Mart.,  3  acts  (ibid.;  Mem.  II,  p.  74), 
later  prose,  5  acts.  Ends  Carn.  (Mem.  II,  p.  74;  note  to  95). 
First  ed.  1774,  vol.  XII,  Pasq. 

Nine  plays  this  year.  If  account  is  correct,  it  explains  why  new 
contract  which  begins  now,  calls  for  at  least  6  (see  1754-55)  and 
allows  9  plays.  Probability  for  date  of  97  as  adopted  increased 
by  its  being  in  dialect  when  first  presented,  Gold,  giving  a  play 
in  Ven.  at  end  of  every  year  of  his  connection  with  San  Luca 
except  the  first,  and  3  times  out  of  5  during  Medebac  period. 

Sources:  (Actors),  14,  32,  57.  Francesco  Bardella,  manager  of 
two  theatres  at  Genoa  (1736),  original  of  impresario  in  Act  I,  3. 
(Intriguing  women),  10,  14,  23,  25,  36.  (Foreigners),  21,  38,  58, 
69,  90,  95. 

Summ.  98.— IL  CAVALlERE  DI  SPIRITO  (II  Cavaliere  di  spirito 
ossia  la  Donna  di  testa  debole).  Mart.,  5  acts.  For  Albergati  at 
Zola,  Summ.  (Pitt.,  vol.  X).  At  San  Luca  shortly  before  Jan. 
10,  1764  (Masi,  Lettere,  pp.  236  &  240).  First  ed.  1764,  vol.  X, 
Pitt. 

Sources:  (Cicisbeism),  20,  21,  26,  27,  30,  33,  36,  39,  43,  52,  60, 
64,  7i,  77,  81,  84. 

Aut.  99.— LA  VEDOVA  SPIRITOSA.  Mart.,  5  acts.  Aut.  (Pitt,  vol. 
VII,  1761,  which  is  first  ed.).  In  prose,  3  acts,  Rome,  Cam.,  1759 
(ibid.)  ;  see  112. 

Source:  Marmontel,  Le  Scrupule,  ou  I' Amour  mecontant  de  lui- 
meme,  story  Gold,  saw  in  the  Mercure  de  France  while  at  Parma, 
Dec.  1756  -  March  1757.  (Cicisbeim),  20,  21,  26,  27,  30,  33,  36, 
39,  43,  52,  60,  64,  71,  77,  81,  84,  98. 

loo.— IL  PADRE  PER  AMORE.  Mart.,  5  acts.  Aut.  (Pasq., 
vol.  IX;  Pitt.,  vol.  IX,  1763,  which  is  first  ed.). 

Sources:  Frangoise  Graffigny,  Cenie,  which  Gold,  saw  at  Parma 
the  previous  winter.  An  anecdote  in  the  Recueil  des  causes 
celebres  (Mem.  II,  p.  78).  Ariosto,  /  Suppositi. 

1758.       ioi.— LA     BELLA     SELVAGGIA.     Tragi-comedy     (Pitt,     and 
Carn.  Zatta).     Mart.,  5  acts.     Carn.   (Spinelli,  Bib  I.  gold.,  p.  279;  Zatta, 
vol.  28;  Pitt.,  vol.  VII,  1761,  which  is  first  ed.). 

Sources:  L'Abbe  Prevost,  Histoire  generate  des  voyages.  Sim- 
ilar to  66,  75,  83,  91. 

102.— LO  SPIRITO  DI  CONTRADDIZIONE.  Mart.,  5  acts. 
Carn.  (Spinelli,  Bill,  gold.,  p.  279;  Zatta,  vol.  XXVII;  Pitt.,  vol. 
IX,  1763,  which  is  first  ed.). 

In  Mem.  II,  p.  115  et  seq.  Gold,  places  102  with  93,  104,  108, 
no  in  theatrical  year  of  his  absence  in  Rome  (1758-59).  Since 
he  is  in  error  for  93,  104,  108,  he  may  be  in  error  for  102. 

Source:  Dufresny,  L'Esprit  de  contradiction,  but  see  Mem.  II, 
p.  117.  For  II  conte  Alessandro,  see  10,  39,  98. 

103.— IL  RICCO  INSIDIATO.    Mart.,  5  ants.     Carn.   (Spinelli, 


APPENDICES  619 

Bibl.  gold.,  p.  279;  Delia  Torre,  p.  40;  Mem.  II,  p.  95 )•    First  ed- 
1761,  vol.  VII,  Pitt. 

Date  in  Zatta  and  Pitt.:  Aut.,  1758,  improbable,  because  i°,  of 
the  6  plays  as  given  here  for  1758-59  five  are  certain  and  one 
very  probable;  2°,  Gold,  not  likely  to  give  more  than  contract  re- 
quired at  a  time  when  he  was  preparing  to  go  to  Rome,  and 
changing  99  and  104  into  prose  for  perf.  there. 

104.— LE  MORBINOSE.  Ven.,  except  i  role.  Mart,  5  acts. 
Ends  Cam.  (Mem.  II,  p.  118).  First  ed.  1761,  vol.  VIII,  Pitt. 

Number  113  derived  from  104  which,  therefore,  precedes  it. 
Date  in  Pitt.:  Aut.,  1758,  improbable,  because  Venetian  plays  end 
Cam.  Note  to  97. 

Sources:     (Venetian  life),  10,  23,  34,  47,  54,  78,  82,  87,  97. 

Summ.  ios.—L'APATISTA  o  sia  L'INDIFFERENTE.  Mart.,  5  acts. 
For  Albergati  at  Zola,  Summ.  (Pitt.,  vol.  X).  At  San  Luca  Aut. 
1763  (Masi,  Lettere,  p.  236).  First  ed.  Jan.,  1764,  vol.  X,  Pitt. 

Sources:  (Men  who  profit  by  cicisbeism  of  women),  io,  23,  39, 
80,  84.  (Cicisbeism),  see  99.  Apastista  of  the  same  family  as  39, 
98,  102.  Cp.  also  89. 

T.06.—LA  DONNA  BIZZARRA  (La  Donna  capricdosa}.  Mart., 
5  acts.  For  Albergati  at  Zola,  Summ.  (Pitt.,  vol.  X).  At  San 
Luca  Jan.,  1759.*  First  ed.  Jan.,  1764,  vol.  X,  Pitt. 

Sources:  Moliere,  Le  Misanthrope.  (Pert  women),  u,  15,  21, 
37,  49,  50,  56,  59,  60,  63,  67,  86,  93,  96,  99.  (Gaming),  25,  34,  40, 
54,  84.  Derived  from  86  (Gold.'s  preface  in  ist  ed.). 

Aut.  107.— LA  DONNA  DI  GOVERNO.  Mart.,  5  acts.  Aut.  (Pitt., 
vol.  VIII,  1761,  which  is  first  ed.).  One  perf.  only  (Mem.  II,  p. 
96,  and  Mazzoni's  note). 

Gold,  to  Vicini,  July  5,  1758:  "  Domani  vado  un  poco  in  villa 
a  respirare,  dopo  due  commedie  novellamente  finite,  La  Donna  di 
governo  e  La  Sposa  sagace"  (Rivista  di  Roma,  Febr.  10,  1907: 
Quattro  letter  e  di  C.  G.). 

Sources:  (Pert  women),  n,  15,  21,  37,  49,  50,  56,  59,  60,  63,  67, 
78,  86,  93,  96,  99,  106.  (Intriguing  women),  10,  14,  23,  25,  36,  97. 
Chiari,  La  Donna  di  governo.  J.  A.  Nelli,  La  Serva  padrona. 

108. — LA  SPOSA  SAGACE.  Mart.,  5  acts.  Oct.  13  (Gra- 
denigo,  Cod.  67,  Museo  Correr;  note  to  107).  First  ed.  1761,  vol. 
VIII,  Pitt. 

Sources:  (Cicisbeism),  20,  21,  26,  27,  30,  33,  36,  39,  43,  52,  60, 
64,  71,  77,  81,  84,  98,  105.  (Neurasthenics),  51  (Ottawa),  89  (Don 
Mauro),  90  (Mons.  Guden),  108  (Petronilla).  J.  A.  Nelli,  // 
Matrimonio  per  astuzia  o  II  Viluppo.  Moliere,  Georges  Dandin. 

*Vendramin  to  Gold.,  Dec.  30,  1758:  "  Subito  dopo  1'Epifania 
(Jan.  8,  1759)  andera  in  Scena  la  Donna  capricdosa."  (Manto- 
vani,  p.  77). 


620  APPENDICES 

109. — LA  DALMATINA.  Tragi-comedy,  Mart.,  5  acts.  Aut. 
(Pitt.,  vol.  IX,  1763,  which  is  first  ed.). 

Gold,  in  pref.  to  play:  "  E  tosto  terminata  la  recita,  parti 
per  Roma."  Vendramin  to  Gold.,  referring  to  1758-59:  "  Nulla 
piu  le  dico,  perche  ella  ha  veduto  che  la  sola  Dalmatina  ha  avuto 
1'assenso  del  popolo."  (Mantovani,  p.  118). 

Sources:  According  to  Mem.  II,  p.  91,  Mme.  du  Boccage,  Les 
Amazones ;  but  in  //  Dalmata,  Aug.  8,  1891,  Maddalena  says  "  it 
would  be  a  mistake  to  insist  on  considering  it  the  source  of  La 
Dalmatina."  Similar  to  66,  75,  83,  91,  101. 

1759.        (106.— LA   DONNA   BIZZARRA,   which   see.)     Perhaps   substi- 
Carn.  tuted  for  116    (Note  to  116  and  to  106). 

no.— LA  BUONA  MADRE.  Yen.  Cam.  (Mem.  II,  p.  117; 
Delia  Torre,  p.  41).  First  ed.  1764-68,  vol.  IX,  Pasq. 

See  note  to  102.  But  letter  March  15,  1759  (Mantovani,  p.  97) 
accounts  for  6  plays  this  year,  and  it  is  improbable  that  Gold, 
should  not  be  right  once  in  five  times.  Its  failure  in  this  year  of 
failures  (Note  to  109),  increases  likelihood  of  date  assigned. 

Sources:  See  Pasq.,  vol.  IX,  preface  to  play.  (Upright  women), 
6,  23,  25,  26,  52,  55,  81,  82,  86. 

in.— I  MORBINOSI.  Ven.,  Mart.,  5  acts.  Ends  Cam.  (Man- 
tovani: Vendramin  on  Dec.  30,  1758,  and  March  15,  1759).  First 
ed.  1763,  vol.  IX,  Pitt. 

Dec.  30:  "e  poi  converra  attendersi  le  due  ultime  settimane  di 
Febbraio  per  fare  la  recita  delli  Morbinosl." 

March  15:  "  1'aver  giudicati  li  Morbinosl  commedia  non  termi- 
nata," etc. 

First  ed.  confirms  date. 

Sources:     (Venetian  life),  10,  23,  34,  47,  54,  78,  82,  87,  97,  104. 

INTERIM. 
For  the  Tordinona  Theatre,  Rome. 

1758.  ii2.— LA    VEDOVA    SPIRITOSA.     Prose    form    of    99,    in    3 
Dec.     acts.     Cam.    (Mem.   II,  pp.   101   &   107;   Pitt.,  vol.   VII).     Printed 
26.        1759,  Rome. 

1759.  113.— LE    DONNE    DI    BUON    UMORE.     Prose    and    Tuscan 
Cam.  form  of   104,   in    3    acts.     Cam.    (Zatta,   vol.   VI,    1789,   which   is 

first  ed.) 

For  the  Capranica  Theatre,  Rome. 

1759-       114.— PAMELA  MARITATA.     Written  before  July,  1759;  perf, 
60.        during  1759-60  (Mem.  II,  p.  109;  Pasq.,  p.  233,  vol.  I,  1761,  which 

is  first  ed.). 

Sources:     Number  38,  to  which  it  is  a  sequel.      (Foreigners),  21, 

38,  58,  69,  90,  95,  97. 

I759-       115.— GLI  AMORI  DI  ALESSANDRO  MAGNO.    Tragi-comedy, 
verse,    5    acts.     Sent   to    Vendramin   from   Bologna    Aug.    7,    1759 


APPENDICES  621: 

(Mantovani,   p.    120).     No   record    of    perf.     First   ed.    1793,    vol. 
XXXI,  Zatta. 

Letter  Aug.  21,  1759  (Mantovani,  p.  122)  describes  series  of  9 
plays  projected  by  Gold,  during  his  return  from  Rome.  Each  was 
to  honour  one  of  the  Muses,  while  the  Introduzione  to  this  year,  // 
Monte  Parnasso,  presents  Apollo  inviting  them  to  state  how  they 
intended  to  entertain  Venice  in  1759-60.  No  record  of  a  recital  of 
this  Introduzione;  Gold,  in  the  Memoirs  ignoring  the  project,  and 
starting  story  of  present  year  with  a  description  of  119. 

Letter,  and  Introduzione    (Zatta,  vol.  XXXI)    show  that  to  Clio 
belongs,  115,  to  Terpsichore  117,  to  Melpomene  118,  to  Erato  119,  to 
Urania  122,  to  Calliope  121,  this  being  order  in  which  Gold,  planned 
them.     He  indicates  no  plays  for  Euterpe,  Thalia,  or  Polymnia,  re- 
spectively 5th,  8th,  and  9th  in  the  plan,  though  Mantovani,  giving 
no  authority,  ascribes  106  to  Euterpe,  and  37  to  Polymnia. 
Aut.         1 1 6.— LA   DONNA   FORTE    (La  Sposa  fdele}.     Mart.,    5    acts.       £^ 
Aut.   (Mantovani,  letters  III,  IV,  V,  VIII,  X).     First  ed.  1761,  vol. 
VIII,  Pitt. 

Belongs  to  1758-59,  but  did  not  pass  Censors  (Mantovani,  Dec. 
30,  1758).  From  Rome,  Jan.  27,  1759  Gold,  returns  play  revised 
and  title  changed  to  Sposa  fidele.  On  March  15,  1759  Vendramin 
again  refers  to  116  as  not  approved  by  Censors.  Season  over 
then,  therefore  not  perf.  Aut.  1758  (Pitt.),  nor  Aut.  1754  (Mem. 
II,  p.  33). 

Sources:  Legends  of  "Santa  Uliva,  Santa  Genoveffa,  Cres- 
cenzia,  o  sia  della  Fanciula  o  Sposa  perseguitata,"  see  6,  44. 
(Women  who  resist  cicisbeism),  10,  26,  43.  (Cicisbeism),  20,  21, 
26,  27,  30,  33,  36,  39,  43,  52,  60,  64,  71,  77,  81,  84,  98,  99,  105,  108. 
Don  Fernando  resembles  lago. 

117.— LA  SCUOLA  DI  BALLO.  Verse  in  terza  rima,  5  acts. 
Before  Oct.  23  (Commemoriali,  Cod.  Gradenigo,  this  date:  Maz- 
zoni,  Mem.  II,  p.  396).  See  note  to  115.  First  ed.  1792,  vol. 
XXIV,  Zatta. 

Sources:     (Stage  folk),  14,  32,  57,  97. 

118. — ARTEMISIA.  Tragedy.  Placed  here  because  3d  in 
series  of  9,  see  note  to  115.  Not  perf.  (Mem.  II,  p.  354).  First 
ed.  1793,  vol.  XXXIII,  Zatta. 

119,— GL'INNAMORATI.  Aut.  (Mem.  II,  p.  120:  written  in  2 
weeks,  Sept.).  First  ed.  1761  (sic.),  vol.  II,  Pasq. 

Sources:  See  Mem.  II,  p.  119  et  seq.,  pp.  104,  in;  Carletta, 
Dove  abitb  Goldoni  a  Roma.  Fabrizio  (Poloni)  a  social  climber, 
see  33,  59. 

1760.        120. — I    RUSTEGHI     (La    Compagnia    del    salvadeghi    ossia    i 
Carn.  Rusteghi}.     Ven.     Feb.    16    (Gasparo    Gozzi    in    Gazzetta   veneta, 
No.  V;  Pasq.  vol.  Ill,  1761    (sic),  which  is  first  ed.). 

"  Addi  16  di  febbraio  si  vide  per  la  prima  volta  questa  corn- 
media  rappresentata  nel  teatro  di  San  Luca,  e  col  ripeterne  le 
rappresentazioni  chiusero  i  comici  di  quella  compagnia  il  carnovale 
di  quest'  anno  1760."  (Mazzoni,  Mem.  II,  p.  386). 


622  APPENDICES 

Sources:  (Cicisbeism),  20,  21,  26,  27,  30,  33,  36,  39,  43,  52,  60, 
64,  71,  81,  84,  98,  99,  105,  108,  116.  (Venetian  life),  10,  23,  34, 
47,  54,  78,  82,  87,  97,  104,  in. 

Aut.  i2i.— ENEO  NEL  LAZIO.  Tragedy.  Oct.  24  (Mantovani,  p. 
131,  Note  4).  See  note  to  115.  First  ed.  1793,  vol.  XXXII, 
Zatta. 

122.— ZORO ASTRO.     Tragi-comedy.     Nov.    29     (Mantovani,    p. 

131,  Note  3).     See  note  to  115.     First  ed.  1793,  vol.  XXXII,  Zatta. 

123.— LA    CASA    NOVA.     Ven.     Dec.    n     (Gasparo    Gozzi    in 

Gazzetta  veneta,  Dec.  13,  1760:  Mazzoni,  Mem.  II,  p.  395).     First 

ed.  1768,  vol.  X,  Pasq. 

Sources:  (Cicisbeism),  see  120.  See  Mem.  II,  p.  121.  (Vene- 
tian life),  see  120. 

1761.        124.— LA  GUERRA.     Cam.   (Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  VII,  p.  323:  it 
Carn.  was  written  in  1760).     First  ed.  1764,  vol.  VI,  Pasq. 

Gold,  in  Pasq.,  vol.  X,  p.  189:  L'Amante  militare  (50)  "  e  nata 
dieci  anni  prima  dell'  altra,"  the  altra  being  124. 

Sources:  (Militarism),  50,  72.  (Serva  padrona),  49,  63,  67, 
107.  (Intriguing  women),  10,  14,  23,  25,  36,  97,  107.  (Gaming), 
25,  34,  40,  54,  84,  106. 

125.— LE  BARUFFE  CHIOZZOTTE.  Ven.  Ends  Cam.  (Mem. 
II,  p.  126,  passage  concerning  beginning  of  Pasq.  ed. ;  Spinelli, 
Fogli  sparsi,  p.  59).  First  ed.  1774,  vol.  XV,  Pasq. 

Sources:  Gold.'s  experience  while  Coadjutore  at  Chioggia 
(Mem.  II,  p.  126,  Mem.  I,  p.  117  et  seq.  (Venetian  life),  10,  23, 
34,  47,  54,  78,  82,  87,  97,  i°4,  i",  ™°>  123. 

Summ.  i26.—L'OSTERIA  DELIA  POSTA.  i  act.  For  Albergati  at 
Zola,  Summ.  (Pitt.,  vol.  X,  1763,  which  is  first  ed.). 

127.— LE  SMANIE  DELLA  VILLEGGIATURA.  Aut.  (See 
129).  First  ed.  1768-74,  vol.  XI,  Pasq. 

Source:    See  129.     (Gaming),  25,  34,  40,  54,  84,  106,  124. 
128.— LE     AVVENTURE     DELLA     VILLEGGIATURA.    Aut. 
(See  129).     First  ed.  that  of  127. 

Source:     See  129.     (Gaming),  25,  34,  40,  54,  84,  106,  124,  127. 
129.— IL  RITORNO  DALLA  VILLEGGIATURA.     Aut.    (Maz- 
zoni, Note  to  Mem.  II,  p.  53,  where  Oct.-Nov.  is  specified;  see  note 
to  84;  Pasq.  gives  1761  for  127,  1762  for  128,  1763  for  129).     First 
ed.  that  of  127. 

Sources:  (Villeggiatura),  n,  49,  67,  80,  84,  127,  128.  (Men 
who  profit  by  cicisbeism  of  women),  10,  23,  39,  57,  80,  84,  105,  107. 
(Healing  by  mental  suggestion),  90;  see  42,  45,  58,  90,  128  (Act 
I,  6)  for  further  allusions  to  or  characterisations  of  physicians. 
(Egoism),  41,  54,  88,  89,  105.  Moliere,  Don  Juan,  ou  le  Festin  de 
pierre* 


APPENDICES  623 

130. — LA  SCOZZESE.  5  acts.  Nov.  3  (Chiari  in  Gazzetta  ven- 
eta,  Nov.  7  and  n,  1761:  Mem.  II,  p.  405).  First  ed.  1774,  vol. 
XIII,  Pasq. 

Nov.  7,  "  Martedi  prossimamente  passato  nel  Teatro  a  S.  Luca 
rappresentata  fu  una  nuova  Commedia  del  sig.  dottor  Goldoni 
intitolata  La  Scozzese"  Nov.  7  falling  on  a  Saturday.  Gazzetta 
<veneta  edited  by  Gasparo  Gozzi  from  Febr.  8,  1760  until  Jan. 
31,  1761  (Mem.  II,  p.  386),  when  Chiari  became  the  editor  (Neri, 
LAteneo  veneto  a  C.  G.,  p.  99). 

Source:  Voltaire,  L'Ecossalse,  which  in  turn  resembles  26 
(Neri,  Una  Fonta  dell'  " Ecossaise "  di  Voltaire],  and  34  (Bouvy, 
Voltaire  et  I'ltalie,  p.  229).  (Foreigners),  21,  38,  58,  69,  90,  95,  97, 
114. 

131.— SIOR  TODERO  (TODARO,  TODORO)  BRONTOLON 
o  sia  IL  VECCHIO  FASTIDIOSO.  Ven.  Ends  Aut.  (Mazzoni, 
Mem.  II,  p.  405;  Zatta,  vol.  IX;  Pasq.  has  Cam.  1761,  which 
may  be  meant  for  theatrical  year).  First  ed.  1774;  vol.  XIV, 
Pasq. 

Sources:  See  Mem.  II,  p.  131.  (Venetian  life),  see  125.  (Pru- 
dent women),  43,  73,  no. 

1762.       132.— UNA  DELLE  ULTIME  SERE  DI   CARNOVALE.    Ven. 
Cam.  Feb.  23   (Mem.  II,  p.  137).     First  ed.  after  1777,  vol.  XVI,  Pasq. 

Sources:     See  Mem.  II,  p.   137  et  seq.     Vendramin   represented 

by  Zamaria,  Gold,  by  Anzoletto.     (Venetian  life),  10,  23,  47,  54, 

78,  82,  87,  97,  104,  in,  120,  123,  125,  131.      (Plays  in  which  Gold. 

is  represented  in  a  character),  45,  72,  90.     (Gaming),  25,  34,  40, 

54,  84,  106,  124,  127,  128. 

Plays  Unclassified  in  Regard  to  Date,  but  Belonging  to 
San  Luca  Period. 

133.— LA  METEMPSICOSI  ossia  LA  PITAGORICA  TRAS- 
MIGRAZIONE.  Mart.  First  ed.  1793,  vol.  XXXI,  Zatta,  no  date. 

134.— LA  BELLA  GIORGIANA.  Tragi-comedy.  First  ed.  1792, 
vol.  XXVIII,  Zatta,  no  date. 

First  contract  with  Vendramin  (Note  preceding  64)  calls  for  32 
plays,  the  second  for  30.  Including  everything,  this  catalogue  de- 
scribes and  places  71  plays  in  this  period.  Not  intended  for,  or 
performed  at,  San  Luca  were  112,  113,  114  of  the  interim  at  Rome, 
and  six  of  the  seven  plays  for  amateurs,  106  being  given  profes- 
sionally at  the  San  Luca.  Deducting,  therefore,  nine  plays  from 
the  71,  we  see  that  the  catalogue  ascribes  62  plays  to  San  Luca 
theatre,  exactly  the  number  required  by  the  two  contracts. 

The  year  1754-55  seems  to  lack  2  plays,  but  1756-57  makes  up 
one;  period  of  ist  contract,  therefore,  lacks  one  play,  and  either 
133  or  134  should  belong  to  it,  legally  or  in  fact.  Period  of  2d 
contract  lacks  one  play  in  1760-61,  but  since  article  6  of  2d  con- 
tract provides  for  a  bonus  of  200  ducats  a  year  payable  to  Gold, 
if  he  fulfils  all  the  terms  of  this  contract,  it  is  almost  certain  that 
either  133  or  134  belongs  to  1760-61.  And  of  these  two  134  is  the 


624  APPENDICES 

more  probable,  since  it  is  a  tragi-comedy,  the  two  years  of  1759-61 
being  a  time  of  tragedies  and  tragi-comedies. 

For  the  Come  die  Ital'icnne,  Paris;  the  San  Luca  Theatre, 
Venice;  the  Comedie  Franqaise,  Paris. 

Unless  otherwise  stated,  the  plays  here  described  were  given  at 
the  Comedie  Italienne.  The  improvised  comedies  are  not  in 
print. 

Correspondence  between  Gold,  and  Vendramin  from  May  2, 
1763  until  June  23,  1763  (Mantovani),  establishes  existence  of 
new  understanding,  modifying  contract  of  March  2,  1762,  and  al- 
lowing him  to  use  any  comedy  he  may  write  for  the  Comedie 
Italienne  for  the  filling  of  his  obligations  to  San  Luca,  rewriting 
such  plays,  of  course,  "to  fit  the  actors  of  the  San  Luca,  and 
Italian  usage." 

During  time  between  Gold.'s  arrival  in  Paris,  Aug.  26,  1762,  and 
Feb.  4,  1763,  numbers  17  and  47  (the  latter  under  title  Les  Caquets 
des  femmes  and  transl.  by  Francesco  Riccoboni  and  his  wife: 
Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  VI,  p.  502)  had  long  runs  at  the  Comedie 
Italienne  (Masi,  Lettere,  Sept.  6  and  Oct.  25;  Mantovani,  p.  160; 
Mem.  II,  p.  159). 

1763.  135.— L'AMORE  PATERNO  o  sia  LA  SERVA  RICONOS- 
CENTE.  2  masks  and  a  Scapino.  Feb.  4  (Pasq.,  vol.  V:  Gold.'s 
letter  Feb.  14,  1763,  "  Finalmente  la  Commedia  ando  in  iscena  il 
dl  4  di  questo  mese.").  First  ed.  1763,  vol.  V,  Pasq. 

Number  135  surreptitiously  perf.  in  Venice.  This  appears  from 
Gold.'s  letter  Feb.,  1763:  "So,  che  dalP  estratto  hanno  fatto  una 
nuova  Commedia,  che  1'hanno  promessa  al  Pubblico  come  cosa 
mia,  ed  a  quest'  ora  rappresentata." ;  and  from  Vendramin's  let- 
ter  Feb.  26,  1763:  "Alii  comuni  ed  universali  applausi  di  tutti, 
si  in  Parigi,  come  in  Venezia,  per  la  buona  riuscita  della  prima 
sua  fatica,  etc."  (Mantovani).  Hence  Gold,  insists  on  modifica- 
tion of  3d  contract  with  Vendramin;  see  note  to  title  of  this  di- 
vision. 

Sources:    Moliere,  Le  Depit  amoureux,  Le  Misanthrope.     (Plays 
•*  in   which    Gold,    is   represented   in    a   character),   45,    72,    90,    132 

(See  first  ed.  of  135,  p.  270).     (Servetta  roles),  49,  55,  63,  67,  78, 
107. 

136.— LA  FORZA  DEL  SANGUE  o  sia  ARLECCHINO  CRE- 
DUTO  MORTO.  Improvised  comedy,  i  act.  Feb.  7  (Masi,  Let- 
tere, Feb.  28,  1763:  "Su  la  quarta  recita  del — 135 — ho  aggiunto 
una  commedia  a  soggetto  d'un  atto  solo.  E  intitolato  La  Forza 
del  sangue"). 

137.— ARLEQUIN  VALET  DE  DEUX  MAITRES.  Number  16 
adapted  to  French  taste.  March  4  (Masi,  Lettere,  Gold,  to  Cornet, 
Feb.  28,  1763). 

138.— ARLECCHINO,  EREDE  RIDICOLO  (Arlequin,  heritier 
ridicule}.  Improvised  comedy,  5  acts.  Before  April  18  (Masi, 
Lettere,  April  18,  1763). 


APPENDICES  625 

Source:     Number  103    (Masi,  ibid.). 

139.— IL  VENTAGLIO.  Between  April  18  and  June  13  (Masi, 
Letter e,  these  dates,  on  first  of  which  Gold,  says:  "Credo  che  si 
dara  in  questo  mese."  Sent  to  Vendramin  Nov.  27,  1764  (Manto- 
vani,  p.  224).  First  ed.  1789,  vol.  IV,  Zatta. 

Sources:     Numbers  69,  87,  125   (Mantovani,  ibid.). 

140.— I  DUE  FRATELLI  RIVALI.  Improvised  comedy,  i  act. 
Before  June  13  (Masi,  Lettere,  p.  213:  139  "  e  troppo  inviluppata 
per  Pabilita  di  questi  comici.  Sono  stato  risarcito  dai  Due  Fra- 
telli  rivali"). 

141.— LE  DUE  ITALIANE.  Written  before  July  u  (Masi, 
Lettere,  p.  220).  Not  perf.  (Mem.  II,  p.  350;  Masi,  Scelta  di 
comm.,  vol.  II,  p.  463).  Lost. 

July  n,  1763:  "  Ne  ho  fatta  una  per  qui,  intitolata  Les  Deux 
Italiennes,  ma  tutta  scritta,  avendo  protestato  a  questi  signori  di 
non  voler  piu  fare  commedie  a  soggetto."  And  Aug.  15:  "Ma 
non  hanno  ancora  imparato  —  141  — ." 

142.— IL  MATRIMONIO  PER  CONCORSO.  Sent  to  Vendramin 
on  or  before  July  11  (Mantovani,  p.  190;  Masi,  Lettere,  p.  220). 
Perf.  in  Italy;  Summ.  (Mantovani,  p.  193,  Note  i).  First  ed.  1778, 
vol.  XIV,  Sav. 

Sources:  Probably  141  rewritten  (Masi,  Scelta  di  comm.,  vol. 
II,  p.  462).  (Merchants),  14,  26,  58,  120.  (Foreigners),  21,  38, 
58,  69,  90,  95,  97,  114,  124,  130. 

143.— GLI  AMORI  DI  ARLECCHINO  E  DI  CAMILLA.  Im- 
provised comedy.  Sept.  27  (Bachaumont,  Memoir es  secrets,  vol.  I, 
p.  282:  Rabany,  p.  379;  Masi,  Lettere,  Oct.  3,  1763:  "  Oggi  otto, 
ho  dato  al  pubblico  una  commedia  intitolata  Les  Amours  d'Arle- 
quin  et  de  Camille."}.  Sent  under  title  GLI  AMORI  DI  ZELINDA 
E  LINDORO  to  Vendramin  before  Oct.  21,  1764  (Mantovani,  pp. 
J97>  J99>  2I3)  in  written  form.  First  ed.  1788,  vol.  I,  Zatta. 

Sources:  Moliere,  Le  Cocu  imaginaire.  (Upright  women),  6, 
23,  25,  26,  52,  55,  81,  82,  no.  Bartoli,  p.  xxxix,  gives  title  of 
scenario,  Gil  Amori  di  Arlecchino,  perf.  Paris,  1746. 

144.— LA  GELOSIA  DI  ARLECCHINO.  Improvised  comedy. 
Between  Sep.  27  and  Dec.  20  (See  143  and  145).  Sent  under 
title  LA  GELOSIA  DI  LINDORO  to  Vendramin  Oct.-Nov.,  1764 
(Mantovani,  letters  XLVI  &  XL VII)  in  written  form.  First  ed. 
1789,  vol.  Ill,  Zatta. 

Sources:  Number  143,  to  which  it  is  a  sequel.  Moliere,  Le 
Cocu  imaginaire. 

.145.— LE  INQUIETUDINI  DI  CAMILLA.  Improvised  comedy. 
Dec.  20  (Masi,  Lettere,  Dec.  27,  1763:  "La  terza  Commedia  e 
andata  in  scena  oggi  otto  passato.").  Sent  under  title  LE  IN- 
QUIETUDINI DI  ZELINDA  to  Vendramin,  Oct.-Nov.,  1764 


626  APPENDICES 

(Mantovani,  Jan.   17,   Oct.  21,   Nov.  4,  Nov.  7,   1764)    in  written 
form.     First  ed.  1788,  vol.  II,  Zatta. 

Sources:  Numbers  143,  144,  to  which  it  is  a  sequel.  Moliere, 
Le  Cocu  imaginaire. 

1764.  146.— CAMILLE  AUBERGISTE.  Improvised  comedy,  2  acts,  4 
roles.  After  Feb.  6  (Masi,  Letter e,  Feb.  6,  1764:  "  Quanto  prima 
si  dara  una  mia  commedia  intitolata — 146 — "),  and  probably  May 
i  (Desboulmiers,  who  says  it  had  3  acts). 

Source:  Number  59.  In  letter  last  quoted  Gold,  indicates  how 
146  differs  from  59. 

i47._L'INGANNO  VENDICATO  (Arlequin  dupe  vengee,  La 
Dupe  vengee).  Improvised  comedy.  Followed  146  (Grimm,  Part 

I,  vol.   IV,   p.   121 ). 

148.— LA  BURLA  RETROCESSA  NEL  CONTRACCAMB1O. 
For  Albergati.  Sent  April  31  (Masi,  Lettere,  April  31,  1764). 
Lost;  but  see  153. 

Source:     Number  147   (Masi,  Scelta  di  comm.,  vol.  II,  p.  463). 

149.— IL  RITRATTO  D'ARLECCHINO  (Le  Portrait  d'Arle- 
quin}.  Improvised  comedy,  2  acts.  Before  Sept.  24  (Masi,  Let- 
tere, Sept.  24,  1764:  "Tre  commedie  ho  dato  ultimamente,  Le 
Portrait  d 'Arlequin,  Le  Rendez-vous  nocturne  e  I'Inimite  d' Arlequin 
et  de  Scapin."}.  Sent  under  title  GLI  AMANTI  TIMIDI  o  sia 
L'IMBROGLIO  DE'  DUE  RITRATTI  to  Vendramin,  end  of 
1764  (Rabany,  p.  236;  Mem.  II,  p.  202;  Mantovani,  letters  be- 
tween Oct.  21,  1764,  and  Jan.  10,  1765),  in  written  form,  3  acts. 
First  ed.  after  1777,  vol.  XVII,  Pasq. 

Source:  "Ella  potrebbe  passare  per  una  Commedia  Spagnuola, 
perche  tutto  il  merito  consiste  negli  equivoci,  e  nelP  intreccio." 
(Gold,  in  Pasq.,  vol.  XVII,  p.  236). 

150.— L'APPUNTAMENTO  NOTTURNO  (Le  Rendez-vou; 
nocturne),  i  act,  and 

151.— L'INIMICIZIA  D'ARLECCHINO  E  DI  SCAPINO 
(L'Inimite  d' Arlequin  et  de  Scapin),  2  acts.  Two  improvised 
comedies,  written  before  Sept.  24  (Masi,  Lettere,  p.  256). 

152.— LES  METAMORPHOSES  D'ARLEQUIN.  Improvised 
comedy.  Oct.  29  (Mazzoni,  Mem.  II,  note  to  p.  165). 

153.— CHI  LA  FA  L'ASPETTA  o  sia  LA  BURLA  VENDICATA 
NEL  CONTRACCAMBIO  FRA'I  CHIASSETTI  DEL  CAR- 
NEVAL  (/  Chiassetti  e  spassetti  de  carneval  de  Venezia).  Ven. 
Given  to  Vendramin  Jan.  10,  1765  (Mantovani,  p.  233;  letters 
of  Dec.  17,  1764,  and  Jan.  3,  1765,  ibid.).  First  ed.  1789,  vol.  V, 
Zatta. 

Sources:  Numbers  147,  148  (Masi,  Scelta  di  comm.,  vol.  II,  p. 
463).  (Venetian  life),  10,  23,  47,  54,  78,  82,  87,  97,  104,  HI,  120, 
123,  125,  131,  132. 


APPENDICES  627 

Other  Plays,  unclassified  in  Regard  to  Dates,  but  performed 
at  the  Comedie  Italienne  between  1762  and  1764. 

See  Mem.  II,  p.  350,  and  Rabany,  p.  234,  who  quotes  vol.  Ill,  p 
210  of  the  Anecdotes  dramatiques. 

154.— LA  FAMIGLIA  IN  DISCORDIA  (La  Famille  en  dis- 
corde).  Improvised  comedy,  i  act. 

155.— ARLEQUIN   COMPLAISANT.     Improvised  comedy. 

156.— L'AMITIE  D'ARLEQUIN  ET  DE  SCAPIN.    Ditto. 

157.— ARLEQUIN  PHILOSOPHE.    Ditto. 

158.— ARLECCHINO  E  CAMILLA,  SCHIAVI  IN  BARBARIA 
(Arlequin  et  Camille,  esclaves  en  Barbarie).  Improvised  comedy, 
3  acts  "  avec  un  divertissement." 

159.— ARLECCHINO  CARBONAIO  (Arlequin  charbonnier). 
Improvised  comedy,  i  act. 

1 60. — L'ANELLO  MAGICO  (La  Bague  magique).  Improvised 
comedy,  2  acts  (Mem.  II,  p.  350),  or  3  acts  (Almanack  des  spec- 
tacles of  1770).  Toldo,  Tre  commedie  francese  inedite  di  C.  G., 
thinks  it  is  same  as,  or  similar  to,  144. 

161.— L'EPOUSE  PERSANE.  Source:  Number  66.  See  Rabany, 
P-  233- 

Received,  but  not  produced,  by  the  Comedie  Italienne,  besides  14.1 
already  described,  and  170  (Rabany,  p.  234;  Mem.  II,  p.  355). 

162.— LA  SCHIAVA  GENEROSA  (UEsclave  genereuse,  ou  la 
Generosite  de  Camille) .  "  Comedie  en  trois  actes." 

163. — LES  MARCHANDS.    Possibly  58  rewritten. 

164.— SCAPIN  JALOUX.    Improvised  comedy. 

165.— LES  RUSES  INNOCENTES  DE  CAMILLE.    Ditto. 
.     166.— LE  GONDOLIER,  AMI  D'ARLEQUIN.    Ditto. 

167.— TAL  PADRONA,  TAL  SERVA  (Telle  maitresse,  telle 
suivante).  "Comedie  en  cinq  actes,  en  prose." 

!68.— I  NASTRI  DI  COLOR  ROSA  (Les  Noeuds  de  couleur  de 
rose).  "Comedie  en  un  acte,  en  prose." 

169.— LA  GUERRA  DE'  BERGAMASCHI  (La  Guerre  des 
Bergamasques).  "Comedie  a  spectacle,  en  cinq  actes,  en  prose." 

1768.  170.— IL  GENIO  BUONO  E  IL  GENIO  CATTIVO.  5  acts, 
2  masks.  Given  to  Comedie  Italienne  before  Nov.,  1764  (Manto- 
vani,  p.  220),  but  not  performed  there  (Rabany,  p.  234).  At 
San  Crisostomo  theatre,  Venice,  Carn.  1768-69  (Masi,  Scelta  di 
comm.,  vol.  II,  p.  572;  Delia  Torre,  p.  43;  Mem.  II,  p.  205). 
First  ed.  1793,  vol.  XXXIV,  Zatta. 


628  APPENDICES 

Source:     Carlo  Gozzi,  Le  Fiabe  teatrali. 

1771.  171.— LE  CINQUE  ETA  D'ARLECCHINO  (Les  Cinq  ages 
d'Arlequin}.  Improvised  comedy  "a  spectacle,"  5  acts.  Sept.  27 
(Grimm,  Part  II,  vol.  II,  p.  57). 

I72_LE  BOURRU  BIENFAISANT.  French  prose.  Comedie 
Franchise,  Nov.  4  (Grimm,  Part  II,  vol.  II,  p.  69;  Mem.  II,  p. 
221).  First  ed.  1771,  Veuve  Duchesne,  Paris. 

Another  French  ed.  1771,  Veuve  Duchesne,  Paris,  contains  a 
transl.  into  It.,  translator  unknown.  A  transl.  by  Pietro  Candoni 
was  published  1772,  vol.  XIII,  Sav.,  under  title  //  Burbero  bene- 
fico  o  sia  il  Bisbetico  di  buon  cuore.  An  It.  version  which  is 
in  Composizioni  teatrali  moderne  tradotte  da  Elisabetta  Caminer, 
was  perf.  at  the  Sant'  Angelo,  Venice,  during  Cam.  1772  under 
title  //  Collerico  di  buon  cuore.  Finally  a  transl.,  or  rather  a 
version,  by  Gold,  was  published  in  1789,  Veuve  Duchesne,  Paris, 
under  title  //  Burbero  di  buon  cuore.  (Spinelli,  Bibl.  gold.,  pp. 
128  and  244;  Malamani,  Nuovi  appunti  e  curiosita  goldoniane,  p. 
154  et  seq.). 

Sources:  Numbers  123,  131.  Not  impossible  that  first  germ  of 
172  is  Freeport  in  Voltaire,  L'Ecossaise;  but  gruff  men  with  sus- 
ceptible hearts  can  be  found  in  several  other  plays,  in  59,  120,  125 
for  instance. 

1776.  173.— L'AVARE  FASTUEUX.  French  prose.  The  Court,  Fon- 
tainebleau,  Nov.  14  (Rabany,  p.  251),  its  failure  there  indefinitely 
deferring  perf.  at  Comedie  Frangaise.  Gold,  withdrew  172  on 
Nov.  22  (Rabany,  p.  304).  Written  in  1772  (Spinelli,  Fogli 
spar  si,  p.  122).  First  ed.  (Transl.  into  Italian,  5  acts),  1789, 
vol.  IX,  Zatta. 

Sources:  (Avarice),  41,  58,  64,  88,  96.  Moliere,  L'Avare,  Le 
Bourgeois  gentilhomme.  (Social  climbing),  33,  59,  119. 

2.— BOOKS  FOR  OPERAS,  LIGHT  OPERAS,  AND 
INTERLUDES. 

Unless  otherwise  indicated,  these  plays  for  music  are  in  verse, 
have  3  acts,  and  were  first  perf.  in  Venice.  Under  the  term  "  light 
opera "  is  included  what  Gold,  calls  Dramma  giocoso,  Dramma 
comico,  and  Commedia  per  musica.  "Interlude"  has  been  adopted 
as  the  English  for  Intermezzo.  The  light  operas  being  in  the 
majority,  they  have  not  been  pointed  out  as  such.  Of  the  many 
composers  who  wrote  scores  for  Gold.'s  books,  Baldassare  Galuppi 
has  twenty-one  to  his  credit,  Cimarosa  has  two  (25,  49),  Paisiello 
three  (36,  42,  47),  Haydn  four  (42,  46,  55,  63),  Johann  Christian 
Bach  one  (56),  and  Mozart  one  (83). 

1730.        i.— IL    BUON    PADRE    o    IL    BUON    VECCHIO.     Interlude 
(Pasq.,  vol.  IX,  p.  10 ;  Musatti,  Drammi  musicali  di  C.  G.),  prose 
(sic:  Mem.  II,  p.  343),  Feltre   (Amateurs).     Acts?     Lost. 
2.— LA    CANTATRICE.     Interlude,    2    acts,    ibid.    (Amateurs). 


APPENDICES  629 

1732.  3. — AMALASUNTA.     Opera     (tragedy    for    music),    not    perf., 
burned. 

1733.  4._ IL    GONDOLIERE     (BARCAROLO)     VENEZIANO    o    sia 
GLI   SDEGNI   AMOROSI.     Interlude,   Ven.,   2   acts,  Aut.,   Milan, 
Vitali  troupe.     First  play  by  Gold.  perf.  professionally. 

1734.  5.— LA   PUPILLA.     Interlude,    San   Samuele. 
6.— LA   PELARINA.     Interlude,   ibid. 

I735-        7.— ARISTIDE.     Interlude,  Aut.,  ibid. 

8.— L'IPPOCONDRIACO.     Interlude,  Aut.,  ibid. 

9. — LA  BIRBA.  Interlude,  a  acts,  at  5th  perf.  of  Rosmonda 
(A,  i,  4),  ibid. 

10. — GRISELDA.  Opera,  Ascension,  ibid.  Adapted  from  Gri- 
selda  by  Zeno  and  Pariati. 

ii.— LA  BOTTEGA  DEL  GAFFE.  Interlude.  Perf.  not  certain 
before  1743,  Milan  (Mem.  I,  Note  to  p.  254).  Zatta  gives  Venice, 

1735- 

12.— LA  FONDAZIONE  DI  VENEZIA.  Interlude,  i  act,  Oct. 
4,  San  Samuele. 

13.— CESARE  IN  EGITTO.  Opera,  Aut.,  S.  Giov.  Crisostomo. 
Doubt  of  authorship. 

1736.  14.— LA    GENEROSITA    POLITICA.     Opera,    Ascension,    San 
Samuele. 

15.— PISISTRATO.  ?.  No  record  of  perf.  (Zatta  gives  Ascen- 
sion), nor  of  music. 

1 6.— L'AMANTE   CABALA.     Interlude,   Aut.,   San   Samuele. 
17.— MONSIEUR  PETITON.     Interlude,  ibid. 

1737.  18.— LUCREZIA  ROMANA  IN  CONSTANTINOPOLI.     Cam., 
ibid. 

1739.  19.— GERMONDO.     Interlude,    Cam.,    Venice.    London,    Hay- 
market,   1776. 

1740.  20.— GUSTAVO   PRIMO,  RE  DI   SVEZIA.     Opera,   Ascension, 
San   Samuele. 

2i._ ORONTE,  RE  DE'  SCITI.  Opera,  Dec.  26,  S.  Giov.  Cris- 
ostomo. 

1741.  22. — LA  STATIRA.     Opera,  Ascension,  San  Samuele   (?). 
23.— AMOR    FA    L'UOMO    CIECO.     Interlude,    Cam.,    Filar- 

monico  theatre,  Verona. 

24.— TIGRANE.     Opera,    Aut,    S.    Giov.    Crisostomo.    Adapted 
from  book  by  B.  Vittori. 
1743.       25.— LA  CONTESSINA.    Jan.,  San  Samuele. 

26.— LA  FAVOLA  DE'  TRE  GOBBI.  Interlude,  2  acts,  Cam., 
San  Moise. 

27.— IL  QUARTIERE  FORTUNATO.  Interlude.  Related  to 
L'Amante  militare  (A,  i,  50),  and  belonging  to  period  1734-44 
(Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  VII,  p.  324). 


63o  APPENDICES 

1746.  28.— LA  VEDOVA  ACCORTA.     Jan.,  S.  Cassiano. 

1747.  29. — LA   MAESTRA.     Aut.,    Formagliari    theatre,   Bologna. 
30.— LA   CADUTA   D'AMULIO.     Opera,    Cam.,   Sant'   Angelo. 

Authorship  uncertain. 

31.— L'ARCADIA  IN  BRENTA.  Teatro  Brocchi  e  Cortellotti, 
Bassano. 

1748.  32.— LA  SCUOLA  MODERNA  o  sia  LA  MAESTRA  DI  BUON 
GUSTO.     Aut.,  San  Moise.     Adapted. 

1749-  33-— IL  CONTE  CARAMELLA.  Aut.,  theatre  of  Accademia 
Vecchia,  Verona. 

34.— LA  MAESTRA  DI  SCUOLA.  Aut,  "nuovo  teatro 
dietro  la  Rena,"  Verona. 

35.— IL  FINTO  PRINCIPE.  Aut,  S.  Cassiano.  From  old 
scenario. 

36.— IL  NEGLIGENTE.    Oct.,  San  Moise. 

37.— ARCIFANFANO,  RE  DEI  MATTI.    Dec.  27,  ibid. 

38.— BERTOLDO,  BERTOLDINO  E  CACASENNO.  Cam., 
ibid. 

1750.  39. — IL  PAESE  DELLA  CUCCAGNA.    Ascension,   ibid. 
40.— IL  MONDO  ALLA  ROVERSA  (A  ROVESCIO)   o  sia  LE 

DONNE  CHE  COMANDANO.  Burlesque,  Aut,  S.  Cassiano. 
From  old  scenario. 

41.— IL  FILOSOFO  DI  CAMPAGNA  (La  Serva  astuta). 
Opera,  Cam.,  Ducal  theatre,  Milan. 

42.— IL  MONDO  DELLA  LUNA.     Cam.,  San  Moise. 

1751.  43.— LE  DONNE  VENDICATE.     Cam.,  S.  Cassiano. 
44.— LA  MASCHERATA.     Cam.,  ibid. 

1752.  45.— I  PORTENTOSI  EFFETTI  DELLA  MADRE  NATURA. 
Aut.,   San  Samuele. 

46.— LE  PESCATRICI.    Cam.,  ibid. 
47.— LE  VIRTUOSE  RIDICOLE.    Ibid. 

1753.  48.— I  BAGNI  D'ABANO.     Cam.,  ibid. 

49.— LA  CALAMITA  DEI  CUORI.    Feb.,  ibid. 
50.— DE   GUSTIBUS   NON   EST  DISPUTANDUM.    Dec.   27, 
S.  Cassiano. 

1754.  51.— LI  MATTI  PER  AMORE.     Jan.   17    (?),   San  Samuele. 
1755-        52- — LE  NOZZE.     Summ.,  Marsigli-Rossi   theatre,  Bologna. 

53.— LA  DIAVOLESSA.     Nov.,  San  Samuele. 

54.— IL  POVERO  SUPERBO.  Cam.,  ibid.  From  La  Castalda 
(A,  i,  49). 

55.— LO   SPEZIALE.     Cam.,  ibid. 
1756.        56.— LA  CASCINA.     Cam.,   ibid. 

57.— LA  RITORNATA  DA  LONDRA.     Cam.,  ibid. 

58.— LA  CANTARINA.  Interlude,  Cam.,  Capranica  theatre, 
Rome. 


APPENDICES  631 

59.— IL    MATRIMONIO    DISCORDE.     Interlude,    Cam.,    ibid. 

60.— LA  BUONA  FIGLIUOLA.     Dec.  26  (Spinelli,  Fogli  sparsi, 

p.  43),   Ducal  theatre,  Parma.     From  Pamela  nubile    (A,   i,   38). 

1757.  61.— IL    TESTING.     Cam.,    Ducal    theatre,    Parma.     From    // 
Festino    (A,   i,   71). 

62.— I  VIAGGIATORI  RIDICOLI.  Cam.,  Ducal  theatre, 
Parma. 

63.— L'ISOLA  DISABITATA.    Aut.,  San  Samuele. 
64.— IL  MERCATO  DI   MALMANTILE.     Dec.  26,  ibid. 

1758.  65.— IL  SIGNOR  DOTTORE.     Aut.,  San  Moise. 

66.— LA    CONVERSAZIONE.     Aut.,    Carignano   theatre,    Turin. 
67.— BUOVO  D'ANTONA.     Cam.   (Dec.  26?),  San  Moise. 

1759.  68.— IL  CONTE  CHICCHERA.     Aut.,  Ducal  theatre,   Milan. 
69.— IL  CIARLATANO.     Aut.,  San   Samuele. 

70.— LI  UCCELLATORI.     Cam.     (Dec.  26?),  San  Moise. 
71.— LE    DONNE    RIDICOLE.    Interlude,    Cam.     (Dec.    26?), 
Valle  theatre,  Rome. 

1760.  72.— AMOR  CONTADINO.     Nov.   12,   Sant'  Angelo. 
73.— FILOSOFIA  ED  AMORE.     Cam.,  San  Moise. 

74.— LA  VENDEMMIA.     Cam.,  Capranica  theatre,  Rome. 
75.— LA  FIERA  DI  SINIGAGLIA.     Cam.,  ibid. 
76.— AMOR  ARTIGIANO.     Dec.  26,  Sant'  Angelo. 

1761.  77.— LA  BUONA  FIGLIUOLA  MARITATA.     May,  Formigliari 
theatre,  Bologna.     From  Pamela  maritata    (A,  i,  114). 

78.— AMORE  IN   CARICATURA.     Cam.,  Sanr*  Angelo. 
79.— IL  VIAGGIATOR  RIDICOLO.     Cam.,  San  Moise. 

1762.  80.— LA    BELLA    VERITA.    June    12,    Marsigli-Rossi    theatre, 
Bologna. 

1763.  81.— IL  RE  ALLA  CACCIA.    Aut,  San  Samuele. 

Gold.'s  indication  of  sources:  Sedaine,  Le  Roi  et  le  fermier; 
Charles  Colle,  La  Partle  de  chasse  d'Henri  IV  (1766,  sic).  Both 
of  these  from  Dodsley,  The  King  and  the  Miller  of  Mansfield. 
All  of  them  from  Calderon,  El  Alcalde  de  Zalamea.  See  Mem. 
II,  p.  211. 

1764.  82.— LA  DONNA  DI  GOVERNO.    Aut.,  San  Moise.     From  La 
Donna  dl  governo   (A,  i,  107). 

83.— LA  FINTA  SEMPLICE.     Cam.,  ibid. 

1766.  84.— LA     CAMERIERA     SPIRITOSA.    Aut.,     Ducal     theatre, 
Milan. 

85.— LA  NOTTE  CRITICA.  Cam.,  S.  Catsiano.  From  Le 
Rendez-vous  nocturne  (A,  i,  150).  See  Spinelli,  Fogli  sparsi,  p. 
64.  And  A,  i,  13. 

1767.  86.— L'ASTUZIA  FELICE.    Aut.,  San  Moise. 

1768.  87.— LE  NOZZE  IN  CAMPAGNA.     Aut.,  ibid. 
1777.        88.— I  VOLPONI.     Date  in  doubt.    Zatta  gives  1777. 

89.— L'ISOLA  DI  BENGODI.     Aut.,  2  acts,  San  Moise. 


632  APPENDICES 

1779-        9°- — IL  TALISMANO.     Aut.,  "  nuovo  teatro  alia  Cannobiana," 

Milan. 
1782.        91. — VITTORINA.     For   Haymarket   theatre,   London.     Date   in 

doubt,  Zatta  giving  1782.     From  Mem.  II,  pp.  210  &  211,  one  would 

conclude  that  its  date  is  about  1770. 

With  La  Bouillotte  (Mem.  II,  p.  215)   Gold,  got  no  farther  than 

the  Canevas  and  a  few  abortive  attempts  at  writing  French  verse. 

It  was  intended  as  a  two-act  light  opera  for  the  Opera  Comique  of 

Paris. 

Books  unclassified  In  Regard  to  Dates. 

92.— IL  DISINGANNO  IN  CORTE.  "  Rappresentazione  in  due 
parti."  Allegorical,  5  roles.  In  vol.  XXVI,  Zatta. 

93. — IL  FILOSOFO.  "  Intermezzo  di  due  parti  per  musica."  In 
vol.  XXXV,  Zatta.  It  is  not  41,  which  has  3  acts,  and  is  in  vol. 
XLIII,  Zatta. 

94.— LO  SPOSO  BURLATO.  Dramma  giocoso  da  rappresen- 
tarsi  la  primavera  del  1778  nel  teatro  dell'  Ill.mo  Pubblico  della 
Citta  di  Carpi.  Book  in  possession  of  sig.  Vito  Vitali.  (See  A. 
G.  Spinelli,  Modena  a  C.  G.,  p.  301  et  seq.) 

3.— CANTATAS  AND  SERENATAS. 

1740.  i.— LA    NINFA    SAGGIA.     Cantata,    2    voices,    Ospitale    della 
Pieta,  Venice. 

2.— GLI  AMANTI  FELICI.     Cantata,  3   voices,  ibid. 
3.— LE  QUATTRO  STAGIONI.     Cantata,  4  voices,  ibid.     Date 
of  i,  2,  3  probably  1740;   see  preface,  p.  8,  vol.  XVI,  Pasq. 

1741.  4.— IL   CORO    DELLE    MUSE    (Le   Nove    muse).     Serenata,    2 
parts,  ibid.,  middle  of  Lent    (Pasq.,  vol.  XVI,  p.   8). 

1744.  5.— LA  PACE  CONSOLATA.  Cantata  for  wedding  of  Arch- 
duchess Marianna  (Maria  Theresa's  sister)  with  Carlo  Alessan- 
dro  di  Lorena,  Jan.  7,  theatre  of  Rimini. 

1752.  6.— L'AMORE  DELLA  PATRIA.  Serenata,  2  parts,  written 
for  the  ceremony  of  raising  to  throne  of  the  Doges,  Francesco 
Loredan.  Venice. 

1758.  7— L'ORACOLO  DEL  VATICANO.     Cantata,  3  voices,  2  parts, 
written  for  the  ceremony  of  inducting  to  the  dignity  of  the  Car- 
dinalship,  Marino  Priuli,  Bishop  of  Vicenza. 

1759.  8.— L'UNZIONE    DI    DAVIDDE.     "Azione    di    due    parti    per 
musica."     In  vol.  XXXVI,  Zatta.     See   Spinelli,  Fogli  sparsi,   pp. 
51  and  56,  and  Modena  a  C.  G.,  p.  301. 

Regarding  Sanctus  Petrus  Urseolus,  oratorio  printed  in  Venice, 
1733,  and  attributed  to  Gold.,  see  Modena  a  C.  G.,  p.  301. 

4.— MISCELLANEA. 
1726.       i.— IL  QUARESIMALE  IN  EPILOGO  DEL  M.  R.  P.  GIACO- 


APPENDICES  633 

MO  CATTANEO  IN  UDINE.    Sonetti  di  Carlo  Goldoni.    Udine. 

Copy  in  the  Bibl.  Civ.,  Venice. 
1732.       2.— L'ESPERIENZA    DEL   PASSATO    FATTA   ASTROLOGO 

DELL'  AVVENIRE.     Almanacco   critico  per  I'anno  1732.     Venice. 
1749.        3.— PROLOGO  APOLOGETICO  ALLA  COMMEDIA  LA   VE- 

DOVA    SCALTRA     CONTRO    LE    CRITICHE     CONTENUTE 

NELLA    COMMEDIA    INTITOLATA    LA    SCUOLA    DELLA 

VEDOVE.    Nov. 

1753-  4-— L'    INTRODUZIONE    COMICA    o    sia    APERTURA    DI 
TEATRO  PER  L'ANNO   1753.     Oct.     First  ed.  1757,  vol.  I,  Pitt. 

1754-  5.— INTRODUZIONE     IN     PROSA     ALLE     RECITE     DELL' 
AUTUNNO    DELL'    ANNO    1754.    Oct.    7.     First   ed.    1757,   vol. 
Ill,  Pitt. 

Source:  Sior  Zamaria  della  Bragola  in  numbers  4  and  5  imi- 
tated from  Monsieur  de  la  Thorilliere  in  Moliere,  L'Impromptu 
de  Versailles. 

1755.  6.— INTRODUZIONE    PER    LA    PRIMA    SERA    DELL'    AU- 
TUNNO DELL'  ANNO   1755.     First  ed.  1758,  vol.  V,  Pitt. 

?  7.— LA  GARA  TRA  LA  COMMEDIA  E  LA  MUSICA.  IN- 

TRODUZIONE. First  ed.  Drammi,  vol.  XVI,  Prato. 

1759.  8.— IL  MONTE  PARNASSO.  INTRODUZIONE.  First  ed. 
1759,  Pitt,  (separate). 

1764.  9.— DELLI  COMPONIMENTI  DIVERSI  DI  CARLO  GOL- 
DONI, AVVOCATO  VENETO.  Pasq.,  2  vols.  Contains  72  num- 
bers of  occasional  verse. 

1787.  io.— MEMOIRES  DE  M.  GOLDONI  POUR  SERVIR  A  L'HIS- 
TOIRE  DE  SA  VIE  ET  A  CELLE  DE  SON  THEATRE.  Dedies 
au  Roi.  Veuve  Duchesne,  3  vols.,  Paris. 

1791.  ii.— STORIA  DI  MISS  JENNY  SCRITTA  E  ADDIRIZZATA 
DALLA  MEDESIMA  A  MILEDY  CONTESSA  DI  ROSCO- 
MOND,  AMBASCIATRICE  DELLA  CORTE  DI  FRANCIA  A 
QUELLA  DI  DANIMARCA.  Opera  di  Madame  Riccoboni 
(Maria  Laboras  di  Mezieres)  celebre  contante  francese.  Tradu- 
zione  arbitraria  del  sig.  Aw.*0  Carlo  Goldoni.  Antonio  Curti  q. 
Giacomo,  2  vols.,  Venice.  (Masi,  Lett  ere,  p.  304;  Spinelli,  Fogli 
spar  si,  p.  107;  Mazzoni,  Mem.  II,  p.  465). 

5.— ENGLISH  TRANSLATIONS  OF  GOLDONI'S  WORKS. 
(a)   COMEDIES. 

1756.  i.— PAMELA  (A,  i,  38).     A  Comedy  by  Charles  Goldoni  trans- 
lated into  English  with  the  Italian  original.     London.     Printed  for 
J.   Nourse   at  the   Lamb  opposite  Catherine  Street  in  the  Strand. 
MDCCLVI. 

1757.  2.— THE  FATHER  OF  A  FAMILY  (A,  i,  27).    A  comedy  acted 
for  the  first  time  at  Venice  during  the  carnival  of  1750,  by  Charles 


634  APPENDICES 

Goldoni,  translated  into  English  with  the  Italian  original.  Lon- 
don. Printed  for  J.  Nourse  at  the  Lamb  opposite  Catherine  Street 
in  the  Strand.  MDCCLVII. 

1761.  3.— THE  LIAR  (A,  i,  35).  Translated  by  Samuel  Foote.  Perf. 
1761  (Maddalena  in  Nota  storica  to  35,  vol.  IV,  Mun.  of  Ven.). 

1785.  4.— CURIOSITY  OR  A  PEEP  THROUGH  THE  KEYHOLE 
(A,  i,  60).  Title  in  Biographia  dramatica,  vol.  II,  p.  147:  Mad- 
dalena, Le  Traduzioni  del  "  Ventaglio,"  p.  73.  Perf.  Dublin,  1785. 
Not  printed. 

1805.  5.— THE  SHE-INN-KEEPER  OR  THE  LANDLADY  (A,  i,  59). 
A  Comedy  by  Master  Charles  Goldoni,  a  Venetian  Lawyer. 
Translated  from  the  Italian  original  By  the  scolar  Mr.  Gabriel 
Pinckerle,  1805,  with  the  help  of  his  Master  Sir  F.  Mahait  at 
Trieste  (Venice,  Bibl.  Naz.  di  S.  Marco,  Ms.  6502,  Cl.  IX,  Cod. 
CDLXXXI,  LXXII,  9). 

Text  of  transl.  preceded  by  letter  (Venice,  Dec.,  1883)  by  James 
Pinckerle,  son  of  translator,  in  which,  on  occasion  of  unveiling 
of  Gold.'s  statue,  he  offers  the  library  of  Saint  Mark  two  un- 
published Mss.,  containing  English  versions  of  La  Locandiera  (59) 
and  //  Matrimonio  per  concorso  (142)  translated  from  the  original 
texts  in  the  years  1805  and  1806  (Maddalena,  La  Fortuna  della 
"Locandiera,"  p.  728). 

6.— AVARICE  AND  OSTENTATION  (A,  i,  173).  With  Life 
of  Goldoni  and  Remarks.  In  The  TJieatrical  Recorder,  by  Thomas 
Holcroft.  London,  Paternoster  Row,  vol.  I,  1805. 

1814.  7.— THE  WORD  OF  HONOR  (A,  i,  144).  Transl.  by  John 
Gait.  In  The  New  British  Theatre,  a  selection  of  original  dramas, 
not  yet  acted:  with  critical  remarks  by  the  editor.  Vol.  I,  1814. 
London,  Henry  Colburn,  Hanover  Square. 

8.— LOVE,  HONOR  AND  INTEREST  (A,  i,  95).  Transl.  by 
John  Gait,  ibid.,  vol.  Ill,  1814. 

?  9.— THE  SERVANT  OF  TWO  MASTERS    (A,   i,   16).     "  Le 

varie  riduzioni  del — 16 — "  (Maddalena,  Le  Traduzioni  del  "  Ven- 
taglio,"  p.  73). 

!849.  io.— AN  ODD  MISTAKE  (A,  i,  95).  n.— THE  MOROSE 
GOOD  MAN  (A,  i,  172).  In  Select  Comedies.  D.  Appleton  & 
Co.,  New  York,  1849. 

Entered  at  library  of  British  Museum  as  11714.66.13;  but  Messrs. 
Appleton  &  Co.,  upon  inquiry,  write  that  they  have  no  record  of 
this  publication. 

1856.  12.— THE  MISTRESS  OF  THE  HOTEL  (A,  i,  59).  A  Comedy 
in  three  acts  by  Carlo  Goldoni.  Translated  from  the  Italian  by 
Thomas  Williams.  London.  Printed  by  R.  S.  Francis,  Catherine 
Street,  Strand,  1856.  Transl.  parallel  with  Italian  text,  and  made 
for  perf.  of  Sig.a  Ristori. 

1892.  13.— A  CURIOUS  MISHAP  (A,  i,  95).  14.— THE  BENEFI- 
CENT BEAR  (A,  i,  172).  15.— THE  FAN  (A,  i,  139).  16.— 


APPENDICES  635 

THE  SPENDTHRIFT  MISER  (A,  i,  173).  The  (sic)  Comedies 
of  Carlo  Goldoni  edited  with  an  Introduction  by  Helen  Zimmern. 
In  Collections  of  Masterpieces  of  Foreign  Authors.  London,  David 
Scott,  1892. 

In  answer  to  inquiry  by  Professor  Maddalena,  Helen  Zimmern 
says:  "I  do  not  remember  where  I  got  those  translations  (See 
A,  53:  10,  ii,  6).  I  have  a  dim  idea  that  I  found  them  and  re- 
vised them."  Number  15  made  from  Ritter's  "  scelleratissima " 
German  transl.  (Maddalena,  Le  Traduzioni  del  "  Ventaglio" 
p.  69). 

1894.  17.— THE  HOSTESS  (A,  i,  59).  Perf.  June  26,  1894,  at  the 
Avenue  Theatre,  London.  It  appears  to  be  a  transl.  of  the  acting 
version  used  by  Eleonora  Duse. 

1897.  18.— OUR  HOSTESS    (A,  i,  59).     An  English  Version  of  Gol- 
doni's  La  Locandiera,  by  A.  O'D.  Bartholeyns.     Perf.  at  Theatre 
Royal,  Kilburn,  April  5th,  1897.     Not  printed. 

1898.  19.— THE  FAN    (A,  i,  139).     Unpublished  transl.  by  Henry  B. 
Fuller.     Perf.    by   Anna    Morgan's   pupils,    Grand    Opera    House, 
Chicago,  1898;  and  in   1909  by  the  Dramatic  Club  of  the  Univer- 
sity of  Chicago. 

1899.  20.— MINE  HOSTESS  (A,  i,  59).     A  slightly  adapted  Transla- 
tion by  M.  Davies  Webster   of  Carlo  Goldoni's  Comedy  La  Lo- 
candiera.    Produced  June  12  and  13,  1899,  under  the  stage  direc- 
tion   of    Mr.    A.    E.    Drinkwater.     Not    printed.     See    Maddalena, 
La  Fortuna  della  " Locandiera"  p.  747,  who  does  not  say  where 
perf.  was  given. 

1907.  21.— THE  FAN  (A,  i,  139).  22.— AN  ODD  MISUNDER- 
STANDING (A,  i,  95).  23.— THE  BENEFICENT  BEAR  (A,  i, 
172).  Three  Comedies  by  Goldoni — Three  Tragedies  by  Vittorio 
Alfieri.  Translated  by  Charles  Lloyd.  In  The  Literature  of 
Italy,  I265-IQO7,  16  vols.,  not  numbered.  The  National  Alumni. 

1910.  24.— MIRANDOLINA    (A,    i,    59).     Transl.   by  Lady   Gregory, 
and  perf.  Feb.  24,   1910,  Dublin    (Maddalena,  Le  Traduzioni  del 
"  Ventaglio ''  p.  73). 

1911.  25.— IL  VENTAGLIO— THE  FAN  (A,  i,  139).    A  Comedy  in 
three  acts  by  Carlo  Goldoni,  translated  for  The  Yale  University 
Dramatic  Association  by  Kenneth  McKenzie,   Assistant   Professor 
of  Italian  in  Yale  University.    With  an  Introduction.     New  Haven, 
Conn.,  1911. 

1912.  26.— THE  MISTRESS  OF  THE  INN    (A,   i,  59).     Translated 
by   Mr.    Merle   Pierson.     Wisconsin    Dramatic    Society.     Madison, 
1912. 

La  Locandiera  has  been  translated  about  30  times  and  into  13 
different  languages. 

27.— THE  COFFEE  HOUSE  (A,  i,  34).  Unpublished  transl. 
by  Henry  B.  Fuller.  Perf.  by  The  Drama  Players,  Chicago,  1912. 


636  APPENDICES 

28.— IL  VENTAGLIO— THE  FAN  (A,  i,  139).  Unpublished 
transl.  by  Stark  Young,  Adjunct  Professor  of  General  Literature 
in  the  University  of  Texas.  Perf.  by  The  Curtain  Club,  Univer- 
sity of  Texas,  Feb.  19,  1912. 

(b)  BOOKS  FOR  LIGHT  OPERA. 

I7g7.  i.—THE  ACCOMPLISHED  MAID  (A,  2,  60?).  A  comic 
opera,  as  performed  at  Covent  Garden.  Translated  by  Edw. 
Toms.  London,  1767.  W.  Griffin,  Catherine  Street,  Strand. 

2.— LA  BUONA  FIGLIUOLA  (A,  2,  60).  A  comic  opera,  as 
performed  at  the  Hay-Market.  Altered  by  G.  G.  Bottarelli.  Lon- 
don, sd  ed.,  1767,  ibid. 

3.— LA  BUONA  FIGLIUOLA  MARITATA  (A,  2,  77).  A 
comic  opera,  being  the  second  part  of  La  Buona  figliuola.  Altered 
by  G.  G.  Bottarelli  (It.  &  Engl.).  London,  1767,  ibid. 

1768.  4.— I  VIAGGIATORI  RIDICOLI  TORNATI  IN  ITALIA— 
THE  RIDICULOUS  TRAVELLERS  RETURN'D  TO  ITALY  (A, 
2,  57?,  62?).  Translated  and  altered  by  G.  G.  Bottarelli  (It.  & 
Engl.).  London,  1768,  ibid. 

1771.  5. — THE    COQUET     (A,    2,    84?).     A    musical    entertainment 
sung  at  Marybone  Gardens;  translated  from  the  Italian  of  Signer 
Goldoni,  and  adapted  to  the  original  music  of  Signer  Galuppi,  by 
Mr.  Stephen  Storace.    London,   1771.     Printed  for  C.  D.  Piguenit 
in  Norris  Street. 

1772.  6.— I  VIAGGIATORI  TORNATI  IN  ITALIA— THE  TRAV- 
ELLERS   RETURN'D    TO    ITALY    (A,    2,    57?,    62?).     As    per- 
formed at  the  King's  Theatre  in  the  Hay  market.     Plan  by  Gol- 
doni, but  the  poetry  is  quite  new,  or  altered  by  G.  G.  Bottarelli. 
London,    1772,  W.   Griffin,   Catherine   Street,   Strand.     Appears   to 
be  another  ed.  of  4. 

1786.  7.— GERMONDO  (A,  2,  19).  By  Carlo  Goldoni;  a  new  serious 
opera  in  3  acts.  Translation  in  prose  by  F.  Bottarelli  (It.  & 
Engl.).  London,  1786,  T.  Cadell. 

1810.  8.— LA  BUONA  FIGLIUOLA,  OR  THE  GOOD-NATURED 
GIRL  (A,  2,  60).  In  2  acts.  Music  by  Piccini.  London,  1810. 
Printed  by  Bretell  &  Co.,  Marshall  St.,  Golden  Sq.,  &  sold  at 
the  Opera  House  &  no  where  else. 

1911.  9.— THE  INQUISITIVE  WOMEN  (A,  i,  60).  In  G.  Schir- 
mer's  Collection  of  Opera-Librettos.  English  version  by  A.  J.  du 
P.  Coleman.  Music  by  Ermanno  Wolf-Ferrari.  New  York,  1911. 
The  Serenade,  by  Harry  B.  Smith  (music  by  Victor  Herbert), 
announced  at  time  of  production  as  a  musical  version  of  a  comedy 
by  Goldoni,  is,  as  the  author  informed  Mr.  Chatfield-Taylor,  en- 
tirely his  own,  Goldoni's  name  having  been  used  as  a  hoax. 


APPENDICES 


637 


1814. 


(c)   GOLDONI'S  MEMOIRS. 
MEMOIRS   OF  GOLDONI.     Written   by  himself   and  forming 


a  complete  history  of  his  Life  and  Writings.    Translated  from  the 

original  French  by  John  Black.     London,  2  vols.,  1814. 
1828.       The  same,  in  vol.  XXIII   (2  vols.)   of  A  Collection  of  the  most 

instructive  and  amusing  Lives  ever  published.    London,  1828. 
1877.       The  same;  abridged.    With  an  Essay  by  W.  D.  Howells.     One 

vol.    Boston,  1877. 


APPENDIX  B 


BIOGRAPHICAL  CHRONOLOGY 

1707,  Feb.  25.  Birth  in  Venice  of  Carlo  Goldoni,  son  of  Giulio 

Goldoni  and  Margherita    (Salvioni). 

1712,  Jan.  10.  Birth  of  Goldoni's  brother,  Giampaolo. 

1712    (?).  Death  of  Goldoni's  grandfather   (See  pp.  11-12). 

1714.  His  father  leaves  for  Rome  to  study  medicine. 

1718.  His   father   obtains   the   doctorate   and   settles   in 

Perugia  with  family. 

Goldoni  enters  the  Jesuit  college  at  Perugia. 

Acts  female  role  in  La  Sorellina  dt  Don  Pilone, 
by  Gigli. 

Goldoni  family  leaves  Perugia  for  Chioggia, 
and  passing  through  Rimini,  the  dramatist  is 
left  there  to  study  philosophy  under  Candini. 
Has  the  small-pox. 

Date  of  letter  from  Rimini  notifying  Goldoni's 
father  that  his  son  has  decamped  with  Florin- 
do's  troupe. 

Goldoni  accompanies  his  father  on  medical 
rounds.  Has  love  adventure  with  one  of  his 
father's  patients.  v 

In  Venice  as  fourth  apprentice  to  his  uncle  In- 
dric,  a  lawyer. 

Date  of  patent  of  Marquis  Ghislieri  whereby 
Gold,  is  enabled  to  enter  Ghislieri  College  at 
Pavia. 

Travels  with  father  from  Chioggia  to  Rovigo, 
Ferrara,  Modena,  Piacenza,  Milan,  and  Pavia. 

Patent  of  admission  to  the  college  presented. 

Goldoni  receives  the  tonsure. 

Enters  the  Ghislieri   College. 

Goldoni  goes  home  to  Chioggia  by  water,  and 
there  reads  Machiavelli's  Mandragola. 

On  return  journey  to  Pavia  he  stops  at  Piacenza, 
where  he  visits  the  Councillor  Barilli,  who 
pays  him  a  debt  owing  to  his  father  as  the 
heir  of  Carlo  Alessandro  Goldoni. 

Spends  Christmas  vacation  with  Marquis  Gol- 
doni-Vidoni. 

Returns  to  Chioggia  for  second  summer  vaca- 
tion. Composes  panegyric  in  praise  of  San 
Francesco  d'Assisi.  Spends  last  days  of  vaca- 
tion with  Marquis  Goldoni  at  Milan. 

Goldoni  expelled  from  Ghislieri  College  for 
writing  //  Colosso,  and  he  returns  to  Chioggia 
accompanied  by  a  hypocritical  friar. 


1719,  after  May. 
Summer. 

1720. 


1721,  March  17. 


1721-22,    Winter    and 
Spring. 

1722,  Spring  and  Sum- 
mer. 
Sep.  25. 


Autumn. 

Nov.  26. 
Dec.  25. 
1723,  Jan.  5. 
July. 

Sep. 


Dec. 

1724,  Summer. 

1725,  May. 


638 


APPENDICES 


639 


1725,  Summer. 

1726,  Spring. 
Summer- Autumn, 


Winter. 
1727. 

1728,  Jan. 

1729,  May  20. 


1730,  Autumn. 


1731,  Jan.  29. 
April. 

Oct.  22. 

1732,  May  20. 
Dec. 


1733,  Jan.-Feb. 
Feb.  ii. 


Oct.  i. 


Oct.  20. 
Nov.  3. 
Nov.  5. 
Nov.  7. 

Nov.  17. 
1734,  June  26. 

June  28. 
June  29. 
July  2. 


July-Aug. 


Goes  with  his  father  to  Udine,  where  he  ^resumes 
the  study  of  law  under  famous  jurisconsult 
Movelli. 

Writes  sonnets  embodying  Lenten  sermons  de- 
livered by  the  R.  P.  Giacomo  Catteneo.  Is 
tricked  in  amorous  adventure  by  a  lady's  maid. 

Accompanies  his  father  to  Gorz,  where  he  stays 
five  months,  and  to  Wippach;  visits  Gratz, 
Trieste,  and  other  towns.  Returns  to  Chi- 
oggia. 

He  is  sent  to  Modena  to  study  law. 

At  Modena,  Venice,  and  Chioggia. 

Appointed  Supernumerary  to  Coadjutor  in  the 
criminal  chancelry  of  Chioggia. 

Becomes  "  Coadjutore  nella  Cancelleria  Crimi- 
nal e  "  at  Feltre,  in  which  position  he  stays  six- 
teen months. 

Goldoni  leaves  Feltre  for  Venice  and  Ferrara, 
and  joins  his  parents  at  Bagnacavallo.  His 
father  dies  there. 

Date  of  death  certificate  of  Gold.'s  father. 

Goldoni  resumes  study  of  law  with  Gio.  Fran- 
cesco Radi  as  his  tutor. 

Obtains  degree  of  Doctor  of  Law  at  Padua. 

Is  admitted  to  the  Venetian  bar. 

He  flees  from  Venice  to  escape  the  difficulties  of 
a    love    affair.     Embarks    for    Padua,    making   J 
short   stays    in    Vicenza,    Verona,    and   Brescia. 
His  mother  goes  to  Modena  to  live. 

At  Bergamo,  where  he  stays  at  house  of  Bon- 
fadini,  his  former  Podesta  at  Feltre. 

At  Milan.  Reads  Amalasunta  to  Count  Prata 
of  the  Milan  Opera,  and  burns  it  after  it  is 
refused.  Is  appointed  the  morning  following 
"  gentilhomme  de  chambre "  to  Orazio  Bartol- 
ini,  the  Venetian  Minister  Resident. 

Bartolini   leaves  Milan,   and  during  his   absence 
Goldoni  meets  a  woman,  known  as  Margherita  * 
Biondi,  with  whom  he  has  love  affair. 

Bartolini  returns  to  Milan. 

The  Sardinians  and  French  enter  Milan. 

Siege  of  Citadel  of  Milan  begins. 

Goldoni  retires  to  Crema  with  Bartolini,  whose 
secretary  he  becomes. 

Assault  of  Pizzighettone. 

Goldoni  loses  his  diplomatic  position  and  leaves 
Crema. 

Arrives  in  Parma. 

Battle  of  Parma. 

Goldoni  starts  for  Brescia  and  is  robbed  by  Aus- 
trian deserters,  who  leave  him  only  a  copy  of 
Bellsario.  Arrives  the  same  day  at  Casal 
Pusterlengo,  and  reads  Bellsario  to  parish 
priest. 

Arrives^at  Brescia,  where  he  meets  Scacciati  and 
La  Biondi.  Borrows  money  from  the  former 


640 


APPENDICES 


and  proceeds  to  Verona,  where  he  is  engaged 
as   playwright    by    Imer    of    the    San    Samuele 
theatre  of  Venice. 
1734,  Sep.  Leaves  Verona  with  Imer's  troupe  for  Venice. 

Oct.  In    Venice.     Beginning    of    his    connection    as    a 

professional  dramatist  with  the  theatres  of  the 
Grimani  family,  viz.  the  San  Samuele  and  the 
San  Gio.  Crisostomo. 
*735>  Spring.  At  Padua  with  Imer's  troupe. 

Summer.  At  Udine.     La  Ferramonti  dies  there.     Goldoni's 

mother  returns  to  Venice  from  Modena  (See 
Dec.,  1732). 

Sep.  Again    in    Venice.     Love    affair    with    La    Pas-  y 

salacqua,  whose  faithlessness  he  dramatizes  in 
Don  Giovanni  Tenorio. 

1736.  Spring.  Michele  Grimani  makes  Goldoni  directing  play- 

wright of  the  San  Gio.  Crisostomo  theatre  in 
Venice.  Goldoni  follows  Imer  to  Genoa, 
where  he  meets  Nicoletta  Connio. 

Aug.  22.  Date  of  marriage  contract  between  Goldoni  and 

Nicoletta  Connio    (Born  in  1717). 

Aug.  23.  Goldoni's  wedding.     Is  again  seized  with  small- 

pox. 

Oct.  9.  Arrives  in  Venice  with  bride. 

Visits  Modena  with  his  wife,  returning  to  Venice 

before  Aut. 
Count  Antonio  Tuvo,  Genoese  consul  in  Venice, 

dies. 

Goldoni  appointed  to  his  post. 
His     exequatur     approved     by     governments     of 

Genoa  and  Venice  respectively. 
His  lawsuit  on  behalf  of  a  Genoese  senator,  and 

unfortunate  dealing  with  broker. 
According  to  last  document  known  to  have  been 
written  by  Goldoni  as  Genoese  consul,  three 
months'  leave  of  absence  given  Goldoni  by  gov- 
ernment of  Genoa,  intended  by  him  to  be  used 
to  regain  income  of  his  patrimony  at  Modena, 
and  to  persuade  Genoese  government  to  pay 
him  for  his  services.  He  puts  off  departure, 
however,  because  of 

May  19.  Death    of    Anna    Baccherini,    the    soubrette    for 

whom  he  wrote  La  Donna  di  garbo,  and  be- 
cause of  return  of  his  brother  Giampaolo,  who 

May-June.  Introduces  to  him   a   Ragusan  captain,   masquer- 

ading as  a  recruiting  colonel,  who  swindles 
Goldoni.  Starts  on  journey  to  Genoa,  but 
there  is  no  evidence  that  he  reached  that  city. 

June.  At  Bologna  with  his  wife. 

July  16.  At  Rimini    (Acts  as  godfather  there  to  child  of 

Angela  Bartozzi). 

Oct.  Austrians  move  on  Rimini,  and  Duke  of  Modena 

evacuates  same.     Goldoni  leaves  for  Pesaro. 

Oct.  25.  Austrians  enter  Rimini. 

1743,  Oct.  29.  Austrians   at  Cattolica.     Goldoni's   luggage  cap- 

tured. 


1737     173,  Spring- 
Summer. 

1740,  Aug.  3. 

Dec.  12. 

1741,  Jan.  2  &  19. 

Nov. 
1743,  March  9. 


APPENDICES 


641 


1743,  Nov. 

1744,  Jan.  or  Feb. 
Lent. 

April-July. 
Aug.  15. 

Summer. 
Sep. 


1745- 


Aug.  13. 


1746. 


May  3. 


1747,  Spring. 
Sep. 

1748,  shortly  after 

April  14. 

June. 

Aug. 
Oct. 

1749,  March  10. 
Nov.  17. 

1750,  Feb.  10. 
Spring. 


Summer 
Oct.  5. 

1751,  Feb. 

Easter. 

After  May  29. 

Oct.  4. 

1753,  April  17. 


Middle  of  May. 


Oct. 
Christmas. 


Goldoni  returns  to  Rimini. 

He  resigns  consulship. 

Austrians  take  the  offensive.  Goldoni  leaves  for 
Florence. 

In  Florence. 

Assumption  day  at  Sienna.  Hears  Perfetti  im- 
provise at  Academy  of  Intronati. 

Visits  Pisa,  where  he  is  received  among  the  local 
Arcadians  (Colonia  Alfea). 

Begins  the  practice  of  law  in  Pisa. 

Cesare  D'Arbes,  a  member  of  the  Medebac 
troupe,  then  at  Leghorn,  visits  Goldoni  at  Pisa, 
and  asks  him  for  a  play. 

Goldoni  sends  D'Arbes  a  sonnet  to  be  recited  at 
perf.  of  Tonin  bella  grazia. 

Goes  to  Florence  on  business. 

Day  of  the  "  Invenzione  della  Croce":  he  is  at 
Lucca. 

Goes  to  Leghorn  and  meets  Girolamo  Medebac. 

Signs  provisional  agreement  with  him. 

Goldoni  leaves  Pisa;  goes  to  Florence,  thence  to 
Bologna  and  Mantua,  where  he  arrives  at  end 
of  April,  staying  a  month  in  Mantua. 

He  journeys  to  Modena,  where  Medebac  joins 
him  the  latter  part  of  July. 

Goes  to  Venice. 

Goldoni's  first  season  at  the  Sant'  Angelo  thea- 
tre opens. 

He  signs  a  four  years'  contract  with  Medebac. 

Dramatic  censorship  established  by  Venetian  gov- 
ernment. 

Announces  intention  to  write  sixteen  comedies  for 
the  following  season. 

Goldoni  accompanies  Medebac's  players  to  Bo- 
logna (where  he  is  April  18),  and  Mantua, 
length  of  stay  in  these  two  places  being  five 
months. 

Is  in  Milan. 

Third  season  at  the  Sant'  Angelo  opens  with  // 
Teatro  comico. 

Medebac  permits  Goldoni  to  print  his  plays  at 
the  rate  of  one  volume  a  year. 

Follows  Medebac  to  Turin. 

Goes  to  Genoa  and  Milan. 

Opening  of  Goldoni's  fourth  season  at  the  Sant' 
Angelo. 

Wedding  of  Giovanni  Mocenigo  and  Catterina 
Loredan,  niece  of  the  Doge  Francesco  Lore- 
dan,  Goldoni  attending  the  wedding  supper  at 
the  Ducal  Palace  two  days  after. 

Joins  the  Medebac  players  in  Bologna,  where  he 
makes  the  acquaintance  of  Senator  Francesco 
Albergati-Capacelli. 

First  negotiations  with   Vendramin    (Antonio). 

Announces  that  he  will  sever  his  relations  with 
Medebac  at  termination  of  contract. 


642 


APPENDICES 


1753,  Feb.  15. 

March  6. 
April  28. 


Oct.  7. 

Oct.  10. 
1754,  March. 


May,  or  June. 


Sep.  14. 
Oct.  7. 
Nov.  7. 
1755,  March. 


After  April  26. 


Aug.  2  and  23. 

End  of  Sep. 
Oct.  6. 
1756,  March. 


Oct.  4. 
Oct.  9. 

Oct.  14. 

Dec. 
Dec.  14. 


1757.  after  March  i. 
Summer. 

Oct.  3. 

1758,  Lent. 


First  contract  with  San  Luca  theatre,  signed  by 
Antonio  Vendramin. 

Contract  with  Medebac  expires. 

Date  of  manifesto  (Lettera  dell'  awocato  Carlo 
Goldoni  ad  un  suo  amico  in  Venezia],  pub- 
lished by  Goldoni  in  Florence,  in  which  the 
Paperini  ed.  of  his  dramatic  works  is  an- 
nounced. 

Opening  of  Goldoni's  first  season  at  San  Luca 
theatre. 

Date  of  Ducal  Privilege  to  print  Paperini  ed. 

Goldoni's  brother,  Giampaolo,  comes  to  Venice 
with  his  two  children. 

Journeys  to  Modena  with  his  entire  family, 
where  he  falls  ill  of  pneumonia.  After  his  re- 
covery he  goes  to  Milan  (Writes  from  Milan 
to  Giovan  Marco  Pitteri  on  July  17),  where 
he  joins  his  players.  His  "vapors"  attack  him 
again,  being  aggravated  by  the  death  of  the 
actor  Angeleri  on  July  16. 

Is  again  in  Venice. 

Second  season  at  San  Luca  opens. 

Death  of  Goldoni's  mother. 

Makes  contract  for  Pitteri  ed.  of  his  dramatic 
works. 

Leaves  Venice  to  join  his  players  in  Bologna. 
On  the  way  thither  he  is  stopped,  near  Fer- 
rara,  by  a  customs  officer,  who,  upon  recogniz- 
ing the  playwright,  intercedes  successfully  with 
his  chief  for  the  passage  of  Goldoni's  contra- 
band. 

In  Venice.  Thence  he  goes  to  Bagnoli  to  visit 
Count  Widiman. 

Returns  to  Venice. 

Third  season  at  San  Luca  opens. 

At  the  invitation  of  Philip  of  Bourbon,  Duke 
of  Parma  and  Piacenza,  Goldoni  goes  to 
Parma  and  to  the  ducal  country  seat,  Colorno, 
Philip  rewarding  him  with  the  title  of  Court 
Poet  and  an  annual  pension  of  3000  lire  (Par- 
mesan). 

Fourth  season  at  San  Luca  opens. 

Date  of  letter  to  Arconati-Visconti,  showing  Gol- 
doni had  returned  to  Venice. 

Goldoni's  second  contract  with  Vendramin 
(Francesco). 

Second  journey  to  the  court  of  Parma. 

Date  of  letter  to  Arconati-Visconti,  showing  Gol- 
doni was  then  at  Parma.  He  stays  there  until 
March,  1757. 

He  meets  Madame  du  Boccage  in  Venice. 

At  Zola,  near  Bologna,  summer  estate  of  Mar- 
quis Albergati-Capacelli. 

Fifth  season  at  San  Luca  opens. 

Goldoni  receives  an  invitation  from  the  proprie- 
tor of  the  Tordinona  theatre  in  Rome  to  write 


APPENDICES 


643 


1758,  Nov.  23. 
Middle  of  Dec. 

1759.  July  2  or  3. 
July  17. 
Sep.  ii. 
Oct.  13. 

Aut. 

1761,  Jan.  25. 
Feb.  4. 


Lent. 


Sep.  5. 
1762.  Feb.  23. 


March  2. 
April  15. 
May  8-29. 
June. 

July  2. 
July. 

July  24. 
July-Aug. 

Aug.  26. 
Sep.  i. 


Sep.  5. 

1763,  end  of  Jan. 
March. 

Oct.  19. 

1764,  March  19. 


plays    for    that    playhouse    and    oversee    their 

production  in  person. 
Starts  on  his  journey  to  Rome. 
Arrives   in   Rome,    and    lodges   in   the  house   of 

Pietro  Poloni,  in  the  via  Condotti. 
Leaves  Rome. 
Is  in  Bologna. 

Is  still  in  Bologna.     (Mantovani,  p.  148.) 
Writes  to  "  N.  N."  that  he  had  spent  two  months 

and  a  half  in  Bologna   (Masi,  Letter e,  p.  130). 
First  negotiations  with  the  comediens  du  Roi  de 

la  troupe  italienne. 
Carlo  Gozzi's  L 'A more  delle  ire  melar ancle  first 

perf.  in  Venice. 
Goldoni   receives   consent  of   the   "  Riformatori " 

to  publish  the  Pasquali  ed.,   and  subsequently, 

at  a  Lenten  banquet  in  Venice,  he  obtains  180 

subscriptions. 
The   French   ambassador   gives   Goldoni   a   letter 

from    Zanuzzi,    offering    him    in    the    name    of 

the   Directeur   des   Spectacles   a   two-years'    en- 
gagement in  Paris. 

Date  of   letter  accepting  Parisian  engagement. 
Perf.  of   Una  delle  ultime  sere  di  carnovale,  in 

which   Goldoni  bids  farewell  to  the   Venetian 

public. 

Third   contract   with    Vendramin    (Francesco). 
Goldoni  leaves  Venice  forever. 
Is  ill  at  Bologna. 
Stops  at  Modena.    And  at  Reggio   (June  26),  to 

visit  Paradisi. 
At  Parma,  where  he  stops  for  a  week,  and  makes 

peace  with  Frugoni. 
At   Corte   Maggiore,   visiting  Princess   Henrietta 

of  Modena.     Then  at  Piacenza  for  four  days 

with  the  Marquis  Casati. 

In  Genoa  with  his  wife's  relatives  for  a  week. 
Journeying    via    Antibes,    Nice,    Marseille,    and 

Lyon  to  Paris. 
Arrival  in  Paris.     Takes  lodgings  in  apartment 

near  Comedie  Italienne. 
Goldoni  assumes  his  post  at  the  Theatre  Italien 

(Spinelli,    Fogli   spar  si.    p.    62),    but    asks    for 

four  months'  time  "  to  examine  the  taste  of  the 

public." 
//  Figlio  d'Arlecchino  perduto  e  ritrovato  played 

at    Fontainebleau,    where     Goldoni    passes    a 

week. 

Moves  to  the  Rue  Richelieu,  beside  Cafe  de  Foy. 
Sees  French  opera  for  the  first  time.     Dines  with 

Madame  du  Boccage. 
Is    sued    for    seduction    by    Catherine    Lefebvre 

(Lefebure),    alias   Mery. 

Writes    to    Albergati    concerning    Comedie    Ital- 
ienne,   saying:     "I    can    certainly   not    stay    in 

Paris;  I  should  lose  my  reputation." 


644 


APPENDICES 


1764,  April  16. 


1765,  Feb.  24. 


Before  May  3. 
May  3-Oct  8. 

Dec.  20. 

1767,  March  13. 

1768,  May  15. 


June  24. 

1769,  before  Jan.  12. 

End  of  1769^6- 
ginning  of  1770. 

1770,  May  1 6. 

1771,  Nov.  4. 
Nov.  5. 

1774,  May  10. 
Summer. 

1775,  Feb. 


June  ii. 


1777. 


1778,  Feb.  10. 
Feb.  17. 

1779,  Dec.  25. 
1780. 

1781,  Oct.  30. 

1783- 

1785,  May  24. 


Writes  to  Albergati  that  the  actors  of  the 
Comedie  Italienne  were  forcing  him  to  leave 
Paris;  but  that  the  Gentlemen  of  the  Chamber 
have  made  compromise  whereby  he  is  under 
aegis  of  the  court,  and  independent  of  the  ac- 
tors. 

Writes  to  Gabriel  Cornet  that  he  has  been  ap- 
pointed to  teach  Italian  to  Madame  Adelaide, 
though  still  under  obligation  to  write  for 
Comedie  Italienne  until  Easter. 

Is  given  apartment  in  the  Chateau  de  Versailles. 

At  Marly,  Compiegne,  Chantilly,  Fontainebleau, 
and  Versailles. 

Death  of  Dauphin.     Goldoni  in  Versailles. 

Death  of  Dauphine  Marie  Josephe  de  Saxe. 

Corsica  annexed,  though  not  effectively  taken 
possession  of  until  after  battle  of  Pontenuovo, 
May  9,  1769:  Goldoni  obtains  for  his  nephew 
the  post  of  interpreter  in  newly  created  Cor- 
sican  bureau,  he  having  previously  secured  for 
the  nephew  the  professorship  of  Italian  in  the 
Ecole  Royale  Militaire. 

Death  of  the  Queen  of  France,  Maria  Lecinska. 

Mesdames  de  France  obtain  for  Goldoni  an  an- 
nual pension  of  4000  livres. 

Goldoni  invited  to  London  to  write  for  Hay- 
market  theatre.  Declines. 

Marriage  of  Marie  Antoinette  with  Dauphin  of 
France. 

Perf.  in  Paris  of  Le  Bourru  bienfaisant. 

Idem  at  Fontainebleau. 

Death  of  Louis  XV. 

Goldoni  at  Choisy-le-Roy,  where  the  daughters 
of  Louis  XV  are  recuperating. 

Goldoni  called  to  teach  Italian  to  Madame  Clo- 
tilde,  sister  of  Louis  XVI,  who  is  to  marry  the 
Prince  of  Piedmont. 

Coronation  at  Reims  of  King  Louis  XVI. 

A  troupe  of  Italian  buffi  arrive  in  Paris.  Gol- 
doni disappointed  in  not  being  invited  to  re- 
write their  libretti. 

Voltaire  returns  to  Paris. 

Goldoni  visits  him.  (Maddalena,  Bricciche  gol- 
donlane:  La  Visita  al  Voltaire.) 

Decree  issued  abolishing  Comedie  Italienne,  to 
take  effect  at  Easter. 

Goldoni  retires  from  the  court,  and  settles  in 
Paris. 

Marriage  of  his  niece,  Petronilla  Margherita 
Goldoni,  to  Giovanni  Antonio  Chiaruzzi. 

Goldoni  plans  a  "  Journal  de  correspondance 
italienne  et  frangaise."  The  plan  fails. 

Failure  of  perf.   in   French  of   Un   Curioso   acci- 
dente   (La  Dupe  de  soi-memi).     (Grimm, 
respondance,  Entry  of  June,   1785.) 

Illness  of  Goldoni's  wife. 


APPENDICES  645 

1787.  Visits  of  Alfieri  and  Moratin  to  Goldoni. 

1788,  Oct.  20.  The  Comedie  Frangaise  pays  Goldoni  600  livres. 

1792,  Jan.  30.  Goldoni  cedes  all  rights  in  Le  Bourru  bienjaisant 

to  the  Comedie  Franchise. 

Feb.  6.  Goldoni's   nephew   given   the   entree   of    Comedie 

Franchise  as  long  as  Le  Bourru  bienjaisant 
continues  in  its  repertory. 

1793,  Feb.  6.  Death    of    Carlo    Goldoni    at   six   o'clock   in   the 

evening,  at  age  of  eighty-six,  at  his  home  in 
the  rue  Pavee  Saint-Sauveur,  No.  i. 

1793.  Feb.  7.  The  Convention  nationale,  unaware  of  Goldoni's 

demise,  and  on  motion  of  Marie-Joseph  Che- 
nier,  decrees  to  restore  to  Goldoni  his  pension 
of  4000  livres  a  year,  and  to  pay  on  his  de- 
mand what  is  due  him  of  the  pension  since 
July,  1792. 

Feb.  10.  Chenier    obtains   from   the    Convention    nationale 

a  pension  of  1500  livres  for  Goldoni's  widow. 

June  18.  Benefit  perf.   of  Le  Bourru   bienjaisant,  ordered 

and  attended  by  the  Convention  nationale, 
which  nets  1859  livres  and  15  sous,  this  sum 
being  paid  to  Goldoni's  nephew  for  the  widow. 


APPENDIX  C 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 

This  bibliography,  while  presenting  the  titles  of  the  books  and  arti- 
cles quoted,  referred  to,  or  specially  consulted  in  the  preparation  of  the 
present  volume,  contains  as  well  the  titles  of  additional  works  of  liter- 
ary or  historical  significance  that  should  come  within  the  knowledge  of 
the  student  of  Goldoni.  It  makes  mention,  however,  of  only  those  gen- 
eral histories  of  Italian  literature  which  have  been  actually  consulted, 
and  excludes  the  mass  of  occasional  and  other  verse,  and  the  addresses, 
printed  in  1907,  on  the  occasion  of  the  second  centenary  of  Goldoni's 
birth,  as  well  as  the  plays  by  Paolo  Ferrari  and  other  Italians  in  which 
Goldoni  figures  as  a  character.  For  supplementary  material,  or  for 
arrangements  of  it  under  specialized  heads,  the  reader  is  referred  to  the 
bibliographies  of  A.  G.  Spinelli  (1884),  Charles  Rabany  (Sources 
bibliographiques  in  his  Carlo  Goldoni,  etc.,  1896),  D'Ancona  and  Bacci 
(Vol.  IV,  1906,  and  Vol.  VI:  Supplemento  bibliografico,  1904,  of  their 
Manuale  della  letteratura  italiana},  Cesare  Levi  (1907),  and  A.  Delia 
Torre  (1908). 

ABATE,  GIUSEPPE  DE-.    Le  Ultime  servette  goldoniane.     Nuova  An- 

tologia,  Feb.  16,   1907. 
ADEMOLLO,    A.    //    Carnevale    di   Roma    net    secoli    XV 11    e    XV 111. 

Rome,  1883. 

— Una   Famiglia   di   comici   italiani   nel   secolo    decimottavo.     Flor- 
ence, 1885. 
AGNOLI,   G.     Versi  inediti  di   Carlo    Goldoni.    Rivista   d'ltalia,   Nov., 

1903. 
AGRESTI,  ALBERTO.    Studii  sulla  commedia  italiana  del  secolo  XVI. 

Naples,   1871. 
ALBERTAZZI,  A.     Patologia  goldoniana.     In  Flegrea,  Naples,  May  20, 

1899. 

— //  Nevrastenico.     II  Marzocco,  Feb.  25,  1907. 
ALGAROTTI,  F.     Lettere  inedite  in  his  Opere,  vols.  XVII  and  XVIII 

(Mme.  du  Boccage  and  Goldoni).     Venice,  1794. 
ALOI,  ALFONSO.    //  Goldoni  e  la  Commedia  dell'  Arte.     Breve  saggio 

storico-critico.     Catania,  1883. 
AMICIS,  V,  DE-.    La   Commedia  popolare  latina  e  la  commedia  dell' 

arte.     Naples,  1882. 
ANCONA,    A.    D'-.     Una    Macchietta    goldoniana.     In    Numero    unico 

"Carlo    Goldoni."     Venice,   Dec.   20,   1883. 
— Origini    del    teatro    italiano;    libri    ire;    con    due    appendici   sulla 

rappresentazione   drammatica   del   contado   toscano   e   sul   teatro 

mantovano  nel  secolo  XVI.     Turin,  2  vols.,  1891. 
—  (With    ORAZIO    BACCI).     Manuale    della    letteratura    italiana. 

Florence,  6  vols.,  1904-08. 
ANONYMOUS.     Osservazioni    critiche   sopra   le   commedie   nuove   fatte 

dalli  Sig.  Goldoni  e  Chiari  in  quest'  anno  1754.     Venice. 
646 


APPENDICES  647 

— Dictionnaire  des  theatres  de  Paris.    Paris,  1756. 

— Anecdotes  dramatiques      Paris,   vol.   Ill,   1775. 

— Nouvelle   biographie  universe  lie.     Paris,  46   vols.,   1852-66. 

— Memorie    e   documents    per    la    storia    dell'    Universita    a    Pavia. 

Pavia,  1877. 

ANTONA-TRAVERSI,  CAMILLO.  Carlo  Goldoni  a  Paris.  A  I'occa- 
sion  de  son  bi-centenaire,  L'ltalie  et  la  France,  Revue  illustree, 
Feb.  4,  1907. 

— Goldoni  a  Parigi.     Natura  ed  Arte,  Feb.  15,   1907. 
ANTONI,    VINCENZO    DEGLI-.     Confronto    fra    (e L 'Adulator e"    dell' 
Awocato  Carlo  Goldoni  e  quello  di  G.  B.  Rousseau.     Giornale 
arcadico,  Rome,  vol.  V,  1822. 

APOLLINAIRE,  G.     Le  Theatre  it  alien.    Paris,  1910. 
APOLLONIO,    F.     Curiosita  storiche  intorno    alle  "Donne  curiose"   di 

Carlo   Goldoni.     Ateneo  veneto,  March  27,   1895. 
ARISTOTLE.     Theory  of  Poetry  and  Fine  Art.     Ed.  by  S.  H.  Butcher, 

London,  1907. 
ATENEO  VENETO  A  CARLO  GOLDONI.    Anno  XXX,  vol.  I,  1907. 

Contains  these  artcles: 

I.    Relazione  delle  onoranze  rese  dall'  Ateneo  Veneto  a  Carlo  Gol- 
doni  nel  2°    centenario   della  sua   nascita.     I    Direttori   della 
Rivista. 
II.     Carlo    Goldoni  ed  Alessandro  Manzoni.     F.  Pellegrini. 

III.  L'Episodio    goldoniano    delle    sedici    commedie    nuove.     Vittorio 

Malamani. 

IV.  //    Gergo    dei    barcaiuoli   veneziani    e    Carlo    Goldoni.     Cesare 

Musatti. 

V.    Diderot  e  il  "  Burbero  benefico."    Pietro  Toldo. 
VI.     Un  Finto  Goldoni.     E.  Maddalena. 
VII.    Passatempi  goldoniani.    Achilla  Neri. 

BACCI,  ORAZIO.     See  under  D'Ancona. 

BACHAUMONT.     Memoires  secrets.    London,  36  vols.,  1780-89. 

BARBIERA,  R.  Polvere  di  palcoscenico.  Note  drammatiche  (For 
Torquato  Tasso,  A,  i,  76).  Catania,  1908. 

BARBIERI,  NICCOL6.  La  Supplica,  ricoretta  ed  ampliata.  Discorso 
famigliare  di  Niccolo  Barbieri,  detto  Beltrame,  diretto  a  quelli 
che  scrivendo  o  parlando  trattano  de'  Comici,  trascurendo  i 
meriti  delle  azzioni  virtuose.  Venice,  1634. 

BARETTI,  GIUSEPPE.  La  Frusta  letteraria.  A  journal  (33  num- 
bers), Venice,  1763. 

— An  Account  of  the  Manners  and  Customs  of  Italy.    London,  1768. 
— Opere  complete.     Milan,  4  vols.,  1838-39. 

— Prefazioni    e   polemiche,   a    cura    di   Luigi    Piccioni.     In    Scrittori 
d'ltalia.     Bari,  1911. 

BARTOLI,  ADOLFO.  Scenari  inediti  della  commedia  dell'  arte.  Con- 
tributo  alia  storia  del  teatro  popolare  italiano.  Florence,  1880. 

BARTOLI,  FRANCESCO.  Notizie  istoriche  de'  Comici  italiani  che 
fiorirono  intorno  all'  anno  MDL  fino  a'  giorni  presenti.  Padua, 
2  vols.,  1782. 

BASCHET,  ARMAND.  Les  Comediens  italiens  a  la  cour  de  France 
sous  Charles  IX,  Henri  III,  Henri  IV,  et  Louis  XIII.  Paris, 
1882. 

BATES,  ALFRED  (Editor).  Drama  and  Opera.  Their  History,  Lit- 
erature, and  Influence  on  Civilization  (vol.  Ill:  Italy).  Lon- 
don, 12  vols.,  no  date. 


648 


APPENDICES 


.BEDUSCHI,  M.    Moliere  e  Goldoni.     Verona,  1900. 
BELGRANO,  L.  T.    //  Matrimonio,  and  //  Consolato  di  C.  G.     In  his 

Imbreviature  di  Giovanni  Scriba.     Genoa,  1882. 
BELLONI,  A.     Intarno  a  una  tragedia  del  Goldoni  (A,  i,  9).     Raccolta 

di    studii    critici    dedicata    ad    Alessandro    D'Ancona,    Florence, 

1901. 
BENEDUCCI,  F.    //  Goldoni  e  la  Massoneria.     Scampoli  Critici,  Serie 

3,  Oneglia,  1906. 
BERCHET,  G.   (Editor).     Poesie  di  G.  Baffo,  Carlo  Goldoni  e  Gasparo 

Gozzi    sulla    commedia    "  II    Filosofo    inglese"    rappresentata 

I'anno  1754.     Venice,  1861. 
BEREGAN,  NICOLA.    II  Museo  d'  Apollo.     Venice,  Fitter!,  1754.     Also 

printed    in     editions    of     Goldoni's    works:     Fantino     (Turin), 

vol.  XIII;    Guibert  e   Orgeas    (Turin),  vol.  XII;   Masi    (Leg- 
horn), vol.  XXXI. 
BERNARDIN,    N.    M.     La    Comedie   italienne   en  France   et   le   theatre 

de  la  Foire.     Paris,  1902. 
BERTANA,  E.     Vittorio  A I  fieri.    Turin,   1902. 

— //   Teatro   tragico   italiano   nel  secolo   XV  111  prima   dell'  A I  fieri. 

Supplemento  N.  4,  Giorn.  stor.  della  lett.  ital.,  Turin,  1901. 
BERTONI,  G.     Carlo  Goldoni  e  il  teatro  francese  del  suo  tempo.    Mo- 

dena,  1907. 
BETTINELLI,    G.    Lettere    a    Lesbia    Cidonia    sopra    gli    epigrammi. 

(For    cabal    over    Le    Bourru    bienfaisant.)     Vol.    XXI    of    his 

Opere,  Venice,  1801. 
^BEVOTTE,    G.    GENDARME    DE-.    La   Legende   de  Don   Juan.    Son 

evolution    dans    la    litterature,    des    origines    au    romantisme. 

Paris,  1906. 
BOCCAGE,   Mme.  DU-.     Lettres  sur  L'ltalie.     Vol.   Ill  of  the  Recueil 

des  ceuvres  de  Madame  Du  Boccage.     Lyons,  1770. 
BOERIO,     GIUSEPPE.    Dizionario     del     dialetto     veneziano.    Seconda 

edizione  aumentata  e  corretta.     Venice,  1856. 
BOISSY,   LOUIS   DE-.     Pamela   en  France;   ou   la  vertu   eprouvee.     In 

his    GLuvres,   9    vols.,   Paris,    1766.     Or   his    Chefs-d'oeuvre   dra- 

matiques,  2  vols.,   Paris,    1791. 
BONFANTI,  R.    Saggio:  La  Donna  di  garbo.    Tip.  Zammit,  1899. 

— Uno   Scenario   di  Basilio   Locatelli:   "II   Fecchio   avaro   ovvero   li 

scritti"  (source  for  La  Serva  amoroso],     Noto,  1901. 
— Saggio:  II  Cavalier  e  e  la  dama.     In  Soccorriamo  i  poveri  bam- 
bini rachitici;    Strenna  pel   1907,  Venice. 

— La  Data  dell'  "  Impostor  e."    Rass.  bibliogr.  d.  letter,  ital.,   1907. 
BORGHI,    CARLO.     Memorie   sulla   vita   di    Carlo    Goldoni.     Modena, 

1859.     See  Modena  a  Carlo  Goldoni. 
BOUVY,  EUGENE.     Voltaire  et  I'ltalie.    Paris,  1898. 
BRACCO,  R.    La  Donna  nel  teatro  di  Carlo  Goldoni.    La  Donna,  Feb. 

20,  1907;  Gazzetta  del  popolo,  Turin,  July  21,  1910. 
BRAGGIO.     Le  Donne  del  Goldoni.     Strenna  dei  rachitici.     Genoa,  1888 

&  1889. 
BRATTI,   R.     Sette   lettere   di  F.  A.  Bon    (who  was   "  il   piu   fervente 

goldoniano    dell'    ottocento").    Rivista    teatrale    italiana.     Flor- 
ence, 1907. 

— Goldoni  e  I'abate  Vicini.     Fanfulla  d.  Dom.,  June  27,  1908. 
BRENTARI,  O.     //  Gradenigo  e  Carlo  Goldoni.    Bassano,  1885. 
BROCCHI,    VIRGILIO.     Carlo    Goldoni   a    Venezia   nel   secolo    XVIII. 

Bologna,  1907. 


APPENDICES  649 

— La  Polemica  a  teatro   (Concerning  Carlo  Gozzi,  Chiari,  and  Gol- 
doni).     Rivista   d'ltalia,  May,   1907. 

BROGLIO,  LUIGI  GRABINSKI  (Editor).  Pel  2°  Centenario  della 
nascita  di  Carlo  Goldoni.  Preface  by  Renato  Simoni.  II  Tea- 
tro Alessandro  Manzoni.  Milan,  Feb.  25,  1907. 

BROGNOLIGO,   G.     N el   Teatro  di   Carlo   Goldoni:  II   Cavalier e  e  la 

dama.    Le  Femmine  puntigliose.     La  Guerra.     Naples,  1907. 
— Goldoniana,  in   La  Biblioteca   delle  scuole  it.,  vol.   IX,   Serie  2a, 
Feb.,   1900. 

BROLL,  E.  //  Torquato  Tasso  di  Goethe.  Annuario  degli  studenti 
trentini.  Florence,  1897-1898. 

BROSSES,  LE  PRESIDENT  DE-.  Lettres  familieres  ecrites  d'ltalie 
en  1739  et  1740.  Paris,  4th  ed.,  2  vols.,  1885. 

BROUWER,  F.  DE  SIMONE-.    Don  Giovanni  nella  poesia  e  nell'  arte 

musicale.     Naples,   1884. 
— Ancora  Don  Giovanni.     Rass,  crit.  d.  lett.  ital.,  II,  1897. 

CAMERINI,  EUGENIO.    /  Precursori  del  Goldoni.    Milan,  1872. 
CAMPARDON,    E.     Les    Spectacles    de    la    Foire.     Theatres,    acteurs, 

sauteurs  et  danseurs  de  corde,  monstres,  geants,  nains,  animaux 

curieux   ou   savants,   marionettes,   automates,   figures   de   cire   et 

jeux   mechaniques   des   Foires   St.    Germain   et   St.   Laurent,   des 

Boulevards  et  du  Palais-Royal,  depuis  1595  jusqu'a  1791.     Paris, 

2  vols.,  1877. 
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dernier s  siecles.     Paris,  2  vols.,  1880. 
CANBY,  HENRY  SEIDEL.    Pamela  Abroad.    Modern  Language  Notes, 

vol.  XVIII,  1903. 
CAPRIN,    GIULIO.     La    Commedia   dell'   arte    al   principio    del   secolo 

XVIII.     Rivista  teatrale  italiana.     Naples,  May  and  Aug.,  1905. 
— Carlo    Goldoni,  la  sua  vita,  le  sue  opere.     Con  Introduzione  di 

Guido  Mazzoni.     Milan,  1907. 

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CARMI,  MARIA.     Pier  Jacopo  Mart  till     Florence,  1906. 
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Venice,  3  vols.,  1824. 
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di   Carlo   Goldoni.     Nuova  Rivista,  Turin,  vol.  Ill,  1882. 
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and  in  vol.  IV  of  his  Commedie,  Turin,  1890. 
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Nouvelle   edition    collationnee   sur    I'edition    originale   de   Leip- 

sick.     Paris,  8  vols.,  no  date. 
— Confutazione    della    storia    del    governo    veneto,    d'Amelot    de    la 

Houssaye.     Amsterdam,   1769. 

CAVATORTI,  G.    //  Goldoni  a  Reggio  d'Emilia.     Modena,  1907. 
CENTELLI,      A.     Maria     Nicoletta.     L'lllustrazione      italiana.     Milan, 

XVII,  1890. 
CERCHIARI,   C.  LUIGI.     Carlo   Goldoni  e  la  Fenezia  dei  suoi  tempi. 

II  Secolo  XX,  March,  1907. 
CHAUSStlE,  PIERRE-CLAUDE   NIVELLE  DE  LA-.     Pamela,  comedie 

en  5  actes  et  en  vers  (Nov.,  1743).     In  CEuvres  completes,  Paris, 

5  vols.,  1762. 


650 


APPENDICES 


CHIARI,  PIETRO.     Commedie   (more  than  60),  Venice,   1756-62.    And 

Bologna,  1756. 

— Commedie  in  versi  dell'  abate  P.  C.     Venice,  1757. 
— Nuova  Raccolta  di  commedie.     Venice,  1762. 
— Tragedie  (4).    Bologna,  1792. 
CHIURLO,   BINDO.     //  Friuli  nelle  Memorie  di   Carlo    Goldoni  e   la 

prima  pubblicazione  del  commediografo.     Udine,   1907. 
CIAMPI,  IGNAZIO.    La  Vita  artistica  di  Carlo  Goldoni.    Rome,  1860. 

— La  Commedia  italiana.    Rome,  1870. 

CIAN,  V.    Due  aneddoti,  due  eta  nella  storia  e  nella  vita  di  Pisa.     Mis- 
cellanea di  erudizione.     Pisa,  vol.  i,   1905. 
— L'ltalianita    di    Carlo    Goldoni.    L'Esule    sommo.     Numero    unico 

x  de  "La   Dante  Alighieri."     Comitato  di   Senigallia,   1907. 
COLLE,   CHARLES.     Journal  historique.     Paris,   3   vols.,   1805-07. 
COLLIER,  J.  P.    History   of  English  Dramatic  Poetry  to  the   Time  of 
Shakespeare  and  Annals  ^of  the  Stage  to  the  Restoration.     Lon- 
don, 3  vols.,  1831.     Reprint,  1879. 
COLLISON-MORLEY,     LACY.    Modern     Italian     Literature.    London, 

1911.    Boston,   1912. 

COPPING,    EDWARD.    Alfieri    and    Goldoni.     Their    Lives    and    Ad- 
ventures.    London,  1857. 
CORYAT,  T.     Coryafs  Crudities.    London,  3  vols.,  1776    (from  ed.  of 

1611). 
COSTETTI.    Bozzetti  drammatici    (for  La  Serva  amorosa — A,   i,   55). 

Bologna,  1887. 
— //    Teatro    italiano    nel   1800    (for    Torquato    Tasso — A,    i,    76). 

Rocca  di  S.  Cassiano,  1901. 
CRESCIMBENI,    G.   M.    Notizie   istoriche   degli  Arcadi   morti.     Rome, 

1720. 
CROCIONI,   G.    Iconografia  goldoniana.     In   Opuscolo  per  nozze   Con- 

versi-Radiciotti.     Modena,    1907. 

— Reggio  e  il  Goldoni.    In  Modena  a  Carlo  Goldoni,  p.  344.     Mo- 
dena, 1907. 
CUMAN,  A.    La  Riforma  del  teatro  comico  italiano  e  Carlo   Goldoni. 

Ateneo  veneto,  vols.  XXII  &  XXIII,  1899-1900. 
CUNLIFFE,    JOHN    W.    Influence    of    Italian    on    Early    Elizabethan 

Drama.     Modern    Philology,    vol.    IV.     Chicago,    1906-07. 
— Italian  Prototypes  of  the  Masque  and  Dumb  Show.     Publications 
of   the   Modern  Language   Association   of  America,   vol.  XXII, 
1907. 

DALMEDICO,  ANGELO.    La  Massoneria  nelle  "Donne  curiose,"   (A, 

i,  60).     Strenna  della  Rivista  della  massoneria  italiana.     Rome, 

1891. 
DEJOB,  CHARLES.     Les  Femmes  dans  la  comedie  franqaise  et  italienne 

au  XVIII*  siecle.    Paris,   1899. 
DESBOULMIERS.     Histoire  anecdotique  et  raisonnee  du  theatre  italien. 

Paris,  7  vols.,  1769. 
DIDEROT,  D.     CEuvres  completes:     De  la  poesie  dramatique   (1758,  in 

which   he   defends   himself   against   accusation   of   plagiarism  in 

his  Le  Fils  naturel  from   Goldoni's   //   Vero   amico — A,    i,  41). 

And  ibid.:    Assezat  in  his  preface  to  Le  Pere  de  famille,  vol. 

VII.     Paris,  Gamier,  1875. 
DUTSCHKE,  HANS.     Goldonis  Tasso.    Burg,  1889. 

EL.,  Mrs.     Fra  le  donne  di  Carlo  Goldoni.     II  Marzocco,  Feb.  25,  1907. 


APPENDICES  651 

FALCHI,  LUIGI.    Intendimenti  sociali  di  Carlo   Goldoni.    Rome,   1907. 

FALCONI,  C.  Le  Quattro  principali  maschere  italiane  nella  Commedia 
dell'  Arte  e  nel  teatro  del  Goldoni.  Rome,  1896. 

FALORSI-SESTINI,  IDA.  Carlo  Goldoni  e  la  commedia.  Giornalino 
della  Domenica,  March  3,  1907. 

FAVART,  C.  S.  Memoires  et  correspondance  litteraires,  dramatigues 
et  anecdotiques.  Paris,  3  vols.,  1808. 

FEDERICI,  VITTORIO.  //  "  Torguato  Tasso"  (A,  i,  76)  di  C.  Gol- 
doni e  di  P.  Giacometti.  Vita  Italiana,  N.  XV,  Rome,  1895. 

FERRARI,  B.  U.,  and  MARCONI,  A.  Carlo  Goldoni  educatore. 
Florence,  1907. 

FERRETTI,  E.  Le  Maschere  italiane  nella  Commedia  dell'  Arte  e  nel 
teatro  di  Goldoni.  Rome,  1904. 

FERRIGNI,  P.  C.  (Pseud.  YORICK).  La  Gelosia  delle  donne  consid- 
erata  quale  passione  drammatica.  La  Nazione.  Florence, 
March  21,  1872. 

FILIPPI,   J.  DE-.     Tartuffe  en  Italie.    Le  Molieriste,   vol.   6,   1884. 

FINZI,  GIUSEPPE.  Lezioni  di  storia  della  letter atur a  italiana.  Turin, 
5  vols.,  1889-1895. 

FIORDELISI.     //  Napolitano  nel  teatro  di  Goldoni.     Naples,  1907. 

FOFFANO,  F.  Due  documenti  goldoniani.  Nuovo  Archivio  veneto,  vol. 
XVIII,  1899-1900. 

FRERON,  ELIA.  "//  Vero  amico"  (A,  i,  41)  de  Goldoni  et  "  Le  Fils 
naturel"  de  Diderot.  L'Annee  litteraire,  1757,  p.  289,  Amster- 
dam. Article  on  Diderot's  defense,  ibid.,  p.  15,  1761. 

FULIN,  R.  Carlo  Goldoni  e  gl'  Inquisitori  di  Stato.  Atti  dell'  1st. 
veneto,  series  V,  vol.  3,  Venice,  1877. 

GALANTI,     FERDINANDO.     Carlo     Goldoni    e    Venezia    nel    secolo 

XVlll.     Padua,   1882. 

— Carlo   Goldoni  e   Gaspare  Gozzi.     In  Soccorriamo  i  poveri  bam- 
bini rachitici.     Strenna  pel  1907.     Venice. 

GALLETTI,  E.     //  Collegia  Ghislieri  di  Pavia.     Pa  via,  1890. 

GALLICO,  G.  //  Bugiardo  (A,  i,  35)  di  Carlo  Goldoni  e  la  commedia 
dell'  arte.  Turin,  1907. 

GALLINA,  GIACINT.^  Le  Maschere  goldoniane.  In  Soccorriamo  i 
poveri  bambini  rachitici.  Strenna  veneziana,  1907. 

GARZONI,  TOMMASO.  La  Piazza  universale  di  tutte  le  professioni 
del  mondo.  Venice,  1587  and  1616. 

GAVI,  DOMENICO.  Della  vita  di  Carlo  Goldoni  e  delle  sue  com- 
medie.  Lezione  quattro.  Aggiuntovi  dello  stesso  autore  il  par- 
alello  tra  esso  Goldoni,  il  Metastasio  e  I'Alfieri.  Milan,  1826. 

GAZZA,  PAOLO.     Carlo   Goldoni  a  Modena.     Modena,   1902. 

GEMMA,  MARIA.     Cenni  sulla  vita  di  G.  Gozzi.     Vicenza,  1907. 

GENTILE,  A.  Dell'  arte  di  Carlo  Goldoni.  Rivista  teatr.  ital.,  Feb. 
16,  1901. 

GHERARDI  (Editor).  Commedie  di  J.  A.  Nelli  (for  sources  of  Gol- 
doni). Bologna,  1899. 

GHERARDINI,    GIOVANNI.     Vita  di    Carlo    Goldoni.     Milan,    1821. 

GIGLI,  GIROLAMO.  Opere  edite  ed  inedite  (for  La  Sorellina  di  Don 
Pilone}.  Siena,  1797,  2  vols. 

GIOVAGNOLI,  R.     Goldoni  a  fronte  di  Moliere.     In   "  Meditazioni   di 
un   brontolone."     Rome,    1877.     Reprint   in    C.    G.   per   cura   del 
comitato,  Venice,  Dec.   30,   1883. 
— Caratteri  goldoniani.     Fanf.  d.  domen.,  Jan.  6,  1884. 


652  APPENDICES 

GOETHE,    JOHANN    WOLFGANG.     Itallanlsche    Relse.     Under    Oct. 

10,  1786.     Werke,  vols.  XXX  &  XXXII,  Weimar  ed. 
GOLDONI,  CARLO.     EDITIONS  OF  HIS  DRAMATIC  WORKS. 

1750.  Venice,    Giuseppe  Bettinelli,   Vols.?     First   3   under   Gold.'s  su- 

pervision. 

1751.  Ibid.,  Idem.     Reprint.     7  vols. 

1751.  Bologna,  Pisarri  Successors.  Reprint  by  Gold,  to  circumvent 
Bettinelli  (Preface,  vol.  I,  Pasq.;  Mun.  of  Ven.,  vol.  I,  p. 
503).  9  vols. 

1752    ('S3?)-     Venice,  Bettinelli.     8  vols. 

1752?     Bologna,   Girolamo  Corciolani  a  S.  Tomaso  d'Aquino.     Vols.? 

1753.     Venice,    Bettinelli.     Without    Gold.'s    supervision.     9    vols. 

1753.     Bologna,  Girolamo  Corciolani.     13  vols. 

1753-55.  Florence,  Paperini  Successors.  10  vols.,  5  plays  each.  Au- 
thor's ed. 

1753-     Opere   drammatiche  glocose.     Venice,   Giov.   Tevernin.     4  vols. 

1753-57.     Pesaro,   Nicolo   Gavelli.     10  vols.     Authorised. 

*7 56-59'     Turin,  Rocco  Fantino  ed  Agostino  Olzati.     13  vols. 

1757  ('55?).  Venice,  Bettinelli.  6  vols.,  copied  from  the  Paperini  ed. 
The  assembled  Bettinelli  ed.  consists  of  32  comedies  in  8  vols. 

1757-63.  Venice,  Francesco  Pitteri  (Nuovo  teatro  comlco}.  10  vols., 
4  plays  each.  Author's  ed. 

1757-64.  Bologna,  Girolamo  Corciolani  &  the  Cojli  Successors  a  S. 
Tomaso  d'Aquino  (Nuovo  teatro  comlco}.  12  vols. 

1758.  Turin,  Rocco  Fantino  (Nuovo  teatro  comlco}.  Reprint  of  Pit- 
teri ed. 

1761  (before).  Naples.  Referred  to  by  Gold,  in  preface,  vol.  I, 
Pasq. 

1761.  Venice,  Giambattista  Pasquali.     17  vols.,  4  plays  each,  the  I7th 

vol.  not  yet  out  in  1777  (Spinelli,  BlbL,  p.  119).     Author's  ed. 

1762.  Bologna,    Press    of    S.    Tomaso    d'Aquino.     Incomplete   copy    of 

Pasquali  ed. 
1770.     Venice,    Agostino    Savioli.     15    vols.     Two    incomplete    reprints 

the   same  year. 

1772-74.     Turin,   Guibert  and   Orgeas.     16  vols.     Authorised. 
1774-77.     Turin,   Guibert   and  Orgeas.     12  vols. 
1777.     Commedle  scelte.     Venice,  Bettinelli.     8  vols. 
1777-78.     Opere  drammatiche  glocose.     Turin,  Guibert  and  Orgeas.     6 

vols. 
1788-95.     Venice,    Antonia   Zatta    e   figli.     44   vols.     Authorised.     The 

Ms.  Gold,  sent  from  Paris  to  make  this  ed.  complete,  is  lost. 
1788-93.     Leghorn,  Tommaso  Masi.     31  vols. 
1788-93.     Lucca,  Bonsignori,     31  vols. 
1793-98.     Venice,  Garbo.     14  vols. 
1819-21.     Prato,  per  I.  F.  Giachetti.     30  vols. 

1823-27.     Venice,  Girolamo  Tasso.     45  vols.,  with  Vita  di  Carlo  Gol- 
donl by  Luigi  Carrer,  in  3  vols.,  1824. 
1827.     Prato:  Collezlone  completa  delle  commedle.     50  vols.:  17  vols. 

for   the    librettos,    3    for   the   Memoirs,    and   the   rest   for   the 

plays. 
1907 — .     Opere   Complete   dl   Carlo    Goldonl.     Edlte  dal  Munlclplo  di 

Venezla  nel  11°  centenarlo  dalla  nasclta.     In  press. 
1907 — .     Commedle   dl    Carlo    Goldonl.     Con   lllustrazloni   artistiche   e 

letterarle  di  van.     Florence.     In  press.    Edited  by  Luigi  Rasi. 


APPENDICES  653 

COLLECTIONS  AND  ONE-PLAY  EDITIONS. 

The  Arabic   numerals    refer  to  Appendix   A,    i.     For   additional,   un- 
critically edited,  one-play  editions  see  Spinelli,  Bibl.  gold.,  p.  163  et  seq. 

1762.  Biblioteca  teatrale  italiana.  Scelta  e  dlsposta  da  Ottaviano 
Diodati.  Lucca.  Vol.  II  contains  La  Buona  figliuola 
(opera),  vol.  IV  has  38,  vol.  V  La  Contessina  (opera),  and 
vol.  XII  (1765)  contains  101. 

1785.  Recueil  des  pieces  de  theatre  lues  par  Mr.  le  Texier  en  sa 
maison  Lisle  Street,  Leicester  Fields.  London,  T.  Hookham, 
Bond  Street.  Vol.  IV  contains  172. 

1797.  //  Teatro  moderno.  Venice.  Vol.  XV  (1797)  contains  59,  vol. 
XXIV  (1798)  has  172,  and  vol.  XXXV  (1799)  has  130. 

1800.  Teatro  italiano,  raccolta  da  L.  Nardini.  London,  Dulan  & 
Co.,  Broad  St.,  Golden  Sq.  Vol.  II  contains  130,  142,  and  96. 

1800.  Les  chef-d'ceuvres  dramatiques  de  diaries  Goldoni,  traduits 
pour  la  premiere  fois  en  franqais  avec  le  texte  italien  a  cote 
de  la  traduction,  un  discours  preliminaire,  des  notes  et  une 
analyse  raisonnee  de  chaque  piece.  Par  M.  A.  A  (mar).  D(u). 
R(ivier).  Lyons  and  Paris,  3  vols.  Contains:  38,  126,  114, 
48,  88,  95,  and  8. 

1810.  Theatre  des  auteurs  du  second  ordre.  Paris.  Vol.  XIII  con- 
tains 172,  which  is  also  in  vol.  XVI  (1804)  of  the  Repertoire 
du  theatre  franqais,  Paris,  P.  Didot  1'aine,  and  in  Repertoire 
general  du  theatre  jr.,  vol.  XLVIII  (1813),  Paris. 

1810.  Scelta  delle  commedie  di  Carlo  Goldoni,  unite  insieme  da 
Fraporta  (I.  G.}.  Leipzig,  4  vols. 

1820.  Compagno  della  mia  grammatica.    Londra,  B.  &  S.   Gardiner. 

Contains  88. 

1821.  Classici   italiani.     Milan.     Commedie  scelte  di   Carlo    Goldoni. 

Contains:     Vol.    I:   Vita   di    C.    G.,   and   95,   41,    38,   and   34; 
vol.  II:  59,  26,   97,  45,   and  74;   vol.  Ill:   143,   144,   145,  43, 
and  48;  vol.  IV:  84,  127,  128,  129,  and  90. 
1818.     La  Moglie  saggia   (52).     John  Stokes,  printer,  London. 

1822.  Saggio    del    teatro    italiano    moderno.     London,    W.    B.    Whit- 

taker.     Vol.  I  has  126. 
1822.     Teatro   italiano.     London,   R.   Zotti.     Vol.    I   contains    130,    142, 

and  96;  vol.  II:  30. 
1824.    Bellingeri:    Scelta    di    alcune    commedie    del    Goldoni.    Paris, 

Fayolle. 
1825-27.     Scelta  di  commedie  di  Carlo   Goldoni.     Milan,   10  vols. 

1828.  Montucci,  A.:  Scelta  completa  di  tutte  le  migliori  commedie  di 

Carlo  Goldoni,  per  uso  della  studiosa  gioventu  oltramontana. 
Leipzig,  2  vols. 

1829.  Teatro  classico  italiano  antico  e  moderno,  owvero:     II  Parnasso 

teatrale.    Introduzione  del  Prof.  F.  Salfi.     Leipzig.     Contains: 
76,   59,  and  126. 

1831.  Scelta  di  alcune  commedie  del  Goldoni.  Paris,  Fayolle,  nth 
ed.  See  1824. 

1837.  Teatro  scelto  italiano,  con  note  biograficke  da  A.  Ronna.    Paris. 

Contains  172. 

1838.  La  France  dramatique  au  XlXe  siecle.    Paris.     Vol.  II  contains 

172. 

1847.  Gherardini:  Scelta  di  commedie  del  Goldoni,  colla  vita  dell' 
autore  scritta  da  — .  Paris,  i4th  ed. 


654 


APPENDICES 


1852.  Scelta  di  alcune  commedie  dell'  Awocato  C.  Goldoni.  Florence, 
G.  Moro. 

1856.  Raffaello  Nocchi:     Commedie  scelte  di  Carlo  Goldoni  pubblicate 

per  cura  di — .     Florence,   1906    (ist  ed.  in   1856).     Contains: 
95,  74,  !25>  34,  59,  172,  and  120. 

1857.  F.   Cameroni:     Capolavori  di   Carlo   Goldoni.     lllustrati  da   G. 

Prosdocimi.     Trieste,  2  vols.     Contains  60  plays. 

1858.  Selections  from  Italian  Authors.    Edinburg  and  London.     Con- 

tains 172  and  139. 

1890.  Rev.  A.  C.  Clapin,  M.A.:  59,  41,  and  172,  with  notes  and  vo- 

cabulary.    In  the  Biblioteca  italiana,  Librairie  Hachette,  Lon- 
don, Paris,  Boston. 

1891.  Teatro   scelto   di   Carlo    Goldoni,  illustrato   da   Giacomo  Man- 

tegazza.     Milan. 

1893.  Mario  Menghini:  "II  Ventaglio,"  commentato  ad  uso  delle 
scuole  da — .  Florence. 

1897.  Ernesto  Masi:  Scelta  di  commedie  di  Carlo  Goldoni.  Flor- 
ence, 2  vols.  Vol.  I  contains  26,  43,  33,  34,  and  60;  vol.  II: 
120,  125,  123,  139,  143,  and  172.  The  general  preface  and 
the  Nota  preliminare  to  each  play  are  important. 

1901.  Giuseppe  Lesca:  " Le  Bourru  bienfaisant"  di  Goldoni,  con 
commento.  Florence. 

1901.  G.  Tambara:     "La  Locandiera,"  con  introduzione  e  commento. 

Turin. 

1902.  A.  Fabre:     Carlo  Goldoni  e  Vittorio  A I  fieri.    Luoghi  scelti  ed 

annotati.     Turin. 

1902.  Geddes  and  Josselyn:  //  Fero  amico.  Introduction,  notes,  vo- 
cabulary. Boston. 

1902.  Emma  B.  Conigliani:  La  Famiglia  dell'  Antiquario.  With 
notes.  Turin.  Idem:  Pamela  nubile. 

1902.  Adolfo  Padovan:  Commedie  scelte  di  Carlo  Goldoni.  Anno- 
tate di  A.  P.  con  un  proemio  di  Giuseppe  Giacosa  su  I'  Arte 
di  C.  G.  Milan.  Contains:  52,  172,  120,  125,  123,  60,  59. 

1904.  A.    Mondino:    "La   Famiglia   dell'   antiquario"   di    C.    G.   con 

note  di — .     Leghorn. 

1905.  Giov.   Scollianti:    La  Donna  prudente  e  scene  vane  di  C.   G. 

Turin. 

1907.  Ferdinando  Martini:  Capolavori  di  Carlo  Goldoni,  preceduti 
da  uno  studio  critico  di  — .  Florence. 

1907.  Geddes  and  Josselyn:     La  Locandiera.     Introduction,  notes,  vo- 

cabulary.    Boston. 

1908.  J.  D.  M.  Ford:     Un  Curioso  accidente.     Introduction  and  notes. 

Boston. 

PRINTED   COLLECTIONS  OF  GOLDONI'S   CORRESPONDENCE. 

A.   CAPPELLI.    Letter  e  inedite  di  Pietro  Metastasio,  Carlo   Goldoni, 

Vittorio  A I  fieri.     Modena,   1864  and   1872. 

CESAROTTI,  M.     Epistolario  scelto  di  C.  Goldoni.     Alvisopoli,  1826. 
CIAMPI,   IGNAZIO.     Lettere  di   C.   Goldoni  al  Marchese  Albergati, 

specialmente  da  Parigi.     In  II  Pirata.     Turin,  1862-63-64. 
CLARETIE,   JULES.     Goldoni  et  la   Comedie  Franc,aise    (Une   lettre 

inedite   de    Goldoni}.    In    L'ltalie    et    la    France;    Revue    Illus- 

tree,   Feb.   5,   1907. 
FIAMMAZZO,   A.    Due  lettere  di   C.   Goldoni.     In  Pagine  friulane, 

N.  n,  Udine,  1898. 


APPENDICES  655 

GENTILE,  A.     Una  lettera  inedita  di  Carlo  Goldoni.     In  Archeografo 

Triestino,  vol.  XXIII    (N.  S.),  1900. 

LI VI,  G.     Una  lettera  del  Goldoni.     In  Illustr.  ital.,  N.  45,  1895. 
LOHNER,    E.    VON-.     Due    lettere    di    Carlo    Goldoni.     In    Archivio 

veneto,  vol.  XXIII,  P.  II,  1882. 
MADDALENA,  E.     Una  lettera  inedita  del  Goldoni.     In  Raccolta  di 

Studi  critic!  dedicata  ad  A.  D'Ancona.     Florence,  1901.     Its  date 

is  April  26,  1773. 
— Lettere    inedite    del    Goldoni.     Estratto    dalla    Flegrea.     Naples, 

March  20,   1901. 
— Lettere     del     Goldoni     annotate     da     — .     Venice,     1907.     Seven: 

1754-91. 
MANTOVANI,    DINO.     Carlo    Goldoni    e   il   teatro    di   San   Luca    a 

Venezia.     Carteggio     inedito     (1755-1765}.     Con    prefazione    e 

note.     Milan,    1884.     Reprint   in   La   Biblioteca    araena,   N.    719, 

1907. 

— Tre  lettere  goldoniane.     In  Fanf.  della  domen.,  1883. 
MASI,    ERNESTO.    Lettere   di    Carlo    Goldoni    con   proemio    e    note. 

Bologna,   1880.     Important  for  the  period   1762-1791. 
NERI,   ACHILLE.     Una  lettera  ignota  di   Carlo    Goldoni    (of   1779). 

In  Natura  ed  Arte,  vol.  Ill,   1894. 
NOVATI,  F.     Due  lettere  del  Goldoni.     In  Rassegna  bibl.  della  lett. 

ital.,  vol.  IV,  Pisa,  1896. 
NOVELLI,  A.  E.     Lettera  di  Goldoni  a  Girolamo  Medebac.     In  A.  E. 

Novelli    inaugurante    nel    Teatro    Valle    la    Casa    di    Goldoni. 

Rome,  Nov.   i,   1900. 
PARAVIA.     Lettere  di  Carlo   Goldoni  pubblicate  per  la  felice  nozze 

Corinaldl-Treves.     Venice,   1839. 

RIVISTA   DI  ROMA,   Feb.   10,   1907.     Quattro   lettere  di   Carlo   Gol- 
doni. 
ROBERTI,  T.     Una  lettera  del  Goldoni  (of  1780).    In  Rassegna  naz., 

April  i,  1884. 
— Lettera    inedita    di    Carlo    Goldoni    (Per    Nozze    Bertolini-Lugo). 

Bassano,  1881. 
SPINELLI,  A.  &  A.     Lettere  di  Carlo  Goldoni  e  di  Girolamo  Mede- 

bach    al    Conte    Giuseppe    Arconati-Visconti.     Tratte    doll'    Ar- 

chivio  Sola-Busca  di  Milano.     Milan,  1882. 
SPINELLI,   A.    G.     Fogli   sparsi   del    Goldoni   raccolti   da—.    Milan, 

1885. 
TAMBARA,  G.     Una  lettera  inedita  di  Carlo  Goldoni.     In  Biblioteca 

d.  scuole  ital.,  vol.  V,  1893. 

URBAN!  DE  GHELTOF,  G.  M.     Lettere  di  Carlo  Goldoni  con  pref- 
azione e  note,  aggiuntovi  il  vocabolario  di  C.   Goldoni  ad  in- 

terpretazione  delle  di  lui  commedie.     Venice,  1880. 

GOZZI,    CARLO.     La    Tartana   degl'   influsst   per   I'anno   bisestile   1757 

(sic).     Paris,  1756. 

— Fiabe  teatrali.  Venice,  1772;  Bologna,  2  vols.,  1885,  ed.  by  Er- 
nesto Masi. 

— Memorie  inutili  della  vita  di  Carlo  Gozzi,  scritte  da  lui  medesimo 
e  pubblicate  per  umilta.  Venice,  3  vols.,  1797;  a  cura  di  Giu- 
seppe Prezzolini,  in  collection  of  Scrittori  d'ltalia,  Bari,  1910. 
See  J.  A.  Symonds. 

GOZZI,  GASPARO.     Gazetta  veneta.     Ed.  from  Feb.  8,  1760,  until  Jan. 
31,  1761,  when  Pietro  Chiari  became  the  editor.     103  numbers. 


656 


APPENDICES 


GOZZI,  GASPARO— continued. 

— L'Osservatore  veneto.     Venice,  12  vols.,  1768;  Florence,  1897.     IO4 

numbers. 
— Scritti    di    Gasparo    Gozzi,   scelti    ed    ordinatl    da   N.    Tommaseo. 

Florence,  3  vols.,  1848-49. 
— Op  ere  scelte.     Naples,  1879. 
GRAF,   A.     Per  il   Goldoni  psicologo.     Per  il   II  centenario   della   nas- 

cita  di  C.  G.    (See  under  Broglio,  L.  G.),  1907. 
— U Anglomania  e  I'infiusso  ingles e  in  Italia  nel  secolo  XV 111   (For 

A,  i,  69  &  80).     Turin,  1911. 
GRAZZINI,    ANTON,    F.    (II    Lasca).     De'    Tutti    trionfi,    earn,    mas- 

cherite  o  canti  carnascialeschi  del  tempo  di  Lorenzo  de'  Medici 

a   quest'   anno   1559    (Canto   di   Zanni   e  Magnifichi). 
GRIMM,  LE  BARON  DE-   (et  par  Diderot).     Correspondence  litteraire, 

philosophique  et  critique  adressee  a  un  souverain   d'Allemagne 

(1753-1790}.     Paris,  3  Parts,   16  vols.  and  a  supplement,  1812- 

13.     See  Maurice  Tourneux. 

GUASTALLA,  R.    Antologia  goldoniana.    Leghorn,  1908. 
GUASTI,    C.    //    Goldoni   a   Firenze.     Archivio   veneto,    vol.    I,   P.   II, 

1871. 
GUBERNATIS,    ANGELO    DE-.     Carlo     Goldoni:     Corso     di    lezioni 

fatte    nell'    universita    di    Roma    nell'    anno    scolastico    1910-11. 

Florence,  1911. 
GUERZONI,   GIUSEPPE.     //   Teatro  italiano   nel  secolo  XVIII    (Carlo 

Goldoni.    La    Commedia    goldoniana.     I    Rusteghi.     Goldoni    e 

Moliere.    II     Burbero      benefico.     Gian      Giacomo     Rousseau}. 

Milan,  1876. 

HAMMOND,  E.  P.    Shakespeare's  Fools.     Atlantic  Monthly,  vol.   CVI, 

1910. 

HORNE,  CHARLES  F.     The  Technique  of  the  Novel     New  York,  1908. 
HORRIDGE,  FRANK.    Lives  of  Great  Italians.    London,  1897. 

JACOBS,  FRIEDRICH.  Nachtrdge  zu  Sulzers  allgemeiner  Theorie  der 
schonen  Kiinste:  Charaktere  der  vornehmsten  Dichter  aller 
Nationen,  etc.  Leipzig,  1793,  vol.  II. 

KERN,    F.     Goethes    Tasso   und  Kuno   Fischer,   nebst   einem   Anhange: 

Goethes  Tasso  und  Goldonis  Tasso.     Berlin,  1892. 
KLEIN,  J.  L.     Geschichte  des  italienischen  Drama's.     Leipzig,  vol.  Ill, 

xer  Abt.,  1868. 
KLINGER,  O.     Die  Comedie  Italienne  in  Paris  nach  der  Sammlung  von 

Gherardi.     Strassburg,  1902. 
KOK,   A.   S.     Carlo    Goldoni   en   het  italiaansche   blyspel.     Amsterdam, 

1875. 

LA  HARPE,  J.  F.  DE-.  Cours  de  litter ature  ancienne  et  moderne. 
Paris,  1800-18. 

LANDAU,    MARCUS.     Carlo    Goldoni.    Beilage    zur    Miinchner    Allg. 

Zeitung,  Ns.  43,  52  &  53,  1896. 

— Geschichte  der  italienischen  Litteratur  im  XVIII  Jahrhundert  (vol. 
I,  26  Abt.,  Chap.  II).     Berlin,  1899. 

LANSON,  G.  Nivelle  de  la  Chaussee  et  la  comedie  larmoyante.  Paris, 
1887. 

LARDNER,  REV.  DIONYSIUS  (Editor).  The  Cabinet  Cyclopedia. 
Eminent  Literary  and  Scientific  Men  of  Italy,  Spain,  and  Por- 
tugal. Vol.  II,  London,  1835. 


APPENDICES  657 

LARROUMET,  G.    Marivaux,  sa  vie  et  ses  ceuvres.    Paris,  1894. 
LAZZARI,  A.    //  Padre  di  Goldoni.     Rivista  d' Italia,  Rome,  Feb.,  1907. 

— Carlo  Goldoni  in  Romagna.    Ateneo  veneto,  Venice,  1908. 
LEE,  VERNON.    Studies  of  the  Eighteenth   Century  in  Italy.     London, 
1881.     Second  ed.,  with  new  preface,  ibid.,  1906.     Italian  transl., 
Milan,   1882. 
LEVI,   CESARE.    Letter atur a  dramatica:     Chap.  XII,  La  Reforma  del 

teatro  in  Italia,  Metastasio,  Goldoni,  Alfieri.     Milan,   1900. 
— Goldoni  nel  teatro.     Ateneo  veneto,   Venice,  Anno  XXIV,  vol.   I, 

1901. 
— Saggio  di  bibliografia  degli  studi  critici  su  Carlo  Gozzi.     Riv.  d. 

Bibliot.  e  d.  Archivi,  Florence,  1906. 

— La  Giovinezza  di  Carlo   Goldoni.     Florentia  nova,  Anno  V,  1907. 
— //    Goldoni,  personaggio   di   teatro.     Rivista    d'ltalia,   Rome,    Feb.,  -,._ 

1907. 
— Nicoletta   e   Armanda.     Florence,    1907.     (Comparison    of    Gold.'s 

wife  with  Armande  Bejart,  wife  of  Moliere.) 
— Contributo    alia    bibliografia    della    critica    goldoniana.     Florence, 

1907. 

LINTILHAC,  E.     "  L'Ecossaise "  de  Voltaire.     Revue  des  cours  et  con- 
ferences, Feb.  24,  1897-98. 

LOHNER,    E.    VON-.     Carlo    Goldoni    e    le   sue   Memorie.     Frammenti. 
Archivio  veneto,  vols.  XXIII  &  XXIV,  Venice,  1882. 

—  (Editor).     Nota   della   campagna   de'   comici   di   San   Samuele   di 

Venezia.     Ibid.,  vol.  XXVI,    1882. 

—  (Editor).     Memoir es  de  M.    Goldoni  pour  servir  a   I'histoire  de 

sa  vie  et  a  celle  de  son  theatre.     Dedies  au  roi.     Tome  premier. 

Ristampate  sull'  edizione  originale  di  Parigi  MDCCLXXXVII 

e  corredate   con  annotazioni.     Venice.   1883. 

— See   also   under  Printed   Collections   of   Goldoni's   Correspondence. 
LONGO,  E.     Carlo  Goldoni  nell'  epistolario  del  Carli.     Pagine  istriane, 

Anno  V. 
LOPEZ,    S ABATING.     La    Locandiera.    Pel    11°    centenario    di    C.    G. 

(See  under  L.  G.  Broglio). 
LUDER,  H.  A.     Carlo    Goldoni  in  seinem   Verhdltnls  zu  Moliere.     Ein 

Beitrag  zur   Geschichte  der  dramatischen  Litteratur  Italiens  im 

iSten  Jahrhundert.     Oppeln,   1883. 
LUNGO,    J.    DEL-.    Lingua    e    Dialetto    nelle    commedie    del    Goldoni. 

Nuova  Antologia,  Feb.  i,  1912. 

MADDALENA,  EDGARDO.    Noterelle  goldoniane.     II  Dalmata,  Zara, 
vol.  XXVI,  4  &  7  Nov.,  1891. 

— "La  Bottega  del  caffe."     II  Dalmata,  Zara,  vol.  XXVI,  Nov.,  1891. 

— "  La  Dalmatina."     II  Dalmata,  Zara,  Aug.  8,  1891. 

— Una     Commedia     dimenticata     (II     Giuocatore}.     Noterelle     gol- 
doniane.    Citta  di  Castello,  1892. 

— "  L'Erede  fortunata."    II   Dalmata,  Zara,  vol.   XXVII,   Jan.-Feb., 
1892. 

— Goethe  e  il  Goldoni.     Fanfulla  della  Domenica,  N.  36,   1892. 

— Fonti    goldoniane:       "La    Finta    ammalata."        Anteneo    veneto,    *«— 
Nov.-Dec.,  1893. 

— "La  Locandiera."    Noterelle  goldoniane.     Giornale  Ligustico,  Ge- 
noa, vol.  XX,  1893. 

— Bricciche     goldoniane:     "  Le     Baruffe     chiozzotte."    Alessandria, 
1894. 


APPENDICES 

MADDALENA,  EDGARDO— continued. 

— Sul  "  Fero  amico  "  di  Carlo  Goldoni;  jonti  ed  aneddoti.    Ateneo 

veneto,  May-Aug.,  1896. 

— Un  Libretto  del  Goldoni.     Corriere  Naz.  di  Zara.     Trieste,  1897. 
— Giuoco    e  giuocatori   nel   teatro   del   Goldoni.     Resoconto   annuale 

dell'  Accademia  di  Commercio.     Vienna,  1898. 
— Aneddoti  intorno  al  "  Servitor  e  di  due  padroni."    Ateneo  veneto, 

Vol.  I,   1898. 

— Bricciche  goldoniane:     La   Visita  al  Voltaire.     Pitigliano,   1898. 
— Figurine  goldoniane:     Capitan  Fracass</.     Rivista  dalmatica,  Zara, 

1899. 

— Goldoni  e  Fa<vart.     Ateneo  veneto,  anno  XXII,  vol.  I,  1899. 
— Una  Diavoleria   di  titoli   e  di   cifre.     Flegrea,    Naples,    May  20, 

1900. 
— Paravia   e   Goldoni.    Nota   btbliografica.     Antologia  veneta.     Fel- 

tre,  1900. 
— Libretti   del   Goldoni  e  d1  altri.     Rivista  musicale  ital.,  vol.  VII, 

Turin,  1900. 
— "La  Serva  amorosa"  del  Goldoni.     Rivista  dalmatica,  Zara,  Jan., 

1900. 

— Goldoniana.     Giorn.   Stor.   e  Lett,   di  Liguria,   vol.   II,   1901. 
— Uno  Scenario  inedito.     From  the  Bibl.  Palatina  in  Vienna;   publ. 

in    the    Sitzungsberichte    der    Kaiserl.     Akademie    der    Wissen- 

schaften,  Vienna,  phil.-hist.  Klasse,  CXLIII    (1901),  P.  16,  if. 
— Intorno    alia    "  Famiglia    dell'    antiquario "    di    Carlo     Goldoni. 

Rivista  teatr.  ital.,  anno  I,  vol.  I,  fasc.  5,  6,  7,  Naples,  1901. 
— Goldoni  e  Npta.    Rivista  polit.  e  lett.,  Rome,  July,   1901. 
— Moratin  e  Goldoni.    Pagine  istriane,  anno  II,  Capodistria,  1905. 
— Scene    e   figure    molieresche   imitate    dal    Goldoni.    Rivista    teatr. 

Ital.,  vol.  X,  Naples,  1905. 
— Lessing    e    Goldoni.     Giorn.    stor.    della    Lett,    ital.,    vol.    XLVII, 

Turin,  1906. 

— Un  Finto  Goldoni.    Ateneo  veneto  a  Carlo  Goldoni,  1907. 
— La  Fortuna  della  "  Locandiera "  fuori  d'ltalia.     Rivista   d'ltalia, 

Rome,  Nov.,  1907. 
—Goldoni   nel    1907.    Estratto   del   Palvese,    Giorn.    lett.   della    Do- 

menica,  N.  VI,  Trieste,  1907. 
— Carlo   Goldoni  nel  secondo  centenario  della  sua  nascita.    Trieste, 

1908. 
••— r    — Di   un    capolavoro   goldoniano:     "II   Bugiardo."    Miscellanea    di 

studi  in  onore  di  Attilio  Hortis,  Trieste,  1910. 
— Le    Traduzioni    del    "  Ventaglio."     Rivista    teatr.    ital.,    vol.    XV, 

Florence,   1911.     See   also  under   Goldoni's   Correspondence. 
MAGNIN,  C.    Les  Commencements  de  la  comedie  italienne  en  France. 

Revue  des  deux  mondes,  vol.  XX,  1847. 
MALAMANI,  VITTORIO.     Carlo  Goldoni.     Nuova  Rivista,  Turin,  Ns. 

50,  51,  52,  53;  1882. 
— Carlo  Goldoni  a  Bologna  nel  1762,  in  C.  G.,  numero  unico,  Venice, 

Dec.  20,  1883. 

— Di  un  documento  goldoniano.     Nuova  Rivista,  vol.  XII,  1884. 
— Per  Carlo   Goldoni.    La  Venezia,  Dec.   30,   1884.    The  reprint  is 

of  1885,  Venice. 
— A  proposito  di  un  "  Nerone"  goldoniano.     Giorn.  stor.  di  lett.  ital., 

vol.  V,  1885. 
— La  Satira  del  costume  a  Venezia  nel  secolo  XVIII.     Turin,  1886. 


APPENDICES  659 

— Nuovi  appunti  e  curiosita  goldoniane.     Venice,  1887. 

— Gasparo   Gozzi.     Nuovo  Archivio  veneto,  vol.  i,  1891. 

— //  Settecento  a  Venezia  (collection  of  verse  with  comment),  Turin, 

2  vols,  1891-92. 
— //  Carnovale  di  Venezia  nel  secolo  XVIII.    Nuova  Antol.,  Feb.  15, 

1896. 
— L'Episodio  goldoniano  delle  sedlci  commedie  nuove.    Aten.  ven.  a 

C.  G.,   1907,  Jan.-Feb.    (which  see). 
MANGA,    STANIS.     Gli    Ultimi   goldoniani.     Riv.    d'ltalia,    anno    VII, 

vol.  I,  1904. 
MANDO,   FERRUCCIO.     //  Piu  prossimo  precursore  di  Carlo   Goldoni 

(Jacopo  Angela  Nelli).     Florence,  1904. 

MANTOVANI,  DINO.     See  under  Goldoni's  Correspondence. 
— //  Carattere  di  Goldoni.     II  Tirso,  Rome,  Feb.  24,  1907. 
MANTZIUS,  KARL.     A  History  of  Theatrical  Art  in  Ancient  and  Mod- 
ern Times.    Translated  by  Louise  von  Cossel.     London,  5  vols., 
1903. 

MANUSCRIPTS.    Zibaldone  comico  di  VaAi  Suggetti  di   Comedie  ed 

Opere  bellissime,  copiate  da  me  Antonio  Passanti  detto  Oratio 

il  Calabrese  per  comando  dell'  Ecc.™°  sig.   Conte  di  Casamar- 

ciano  1700.     In  the  Museo  Nazionale  of  Naples. 

— Codice    (Raccolta)    Cicogna  delle  miscellanee   Correr.    Especially 

Ns.  685,  1465,  1890,  2395,  1601.     In  the  Museo  Civico  of  Venice. 
— Gradenigo,  Notatorj   (1751-1767?}.    Museo  Civico  of  Venice. 
— Gennari,  G.,   Conaca.    Library  of  the  Seminario  of  Padua. 
MARANZANA,    F.    U.     Un    Tipo    fortunato:    (( II    Bugiardo."    Gazz. 

lett.,  Turin,  Oct.  10,   1885. 
MARCHINI-CAPASSO,    OLGA.     Goldoni    e    la    commedia    dell'    arte. 

Bergamo,  1907. 

MARCONI,  A.     See  Ferrari,  B.  U. 
MARMONTEL,  J.  F.     (Euvres  completes,  Paris,  19  vols.,  1818.     (Contes 

moraux  and  Memoires.) 

MARTINI,  FERDINANDO.  La  Vita  italiana  nel  settecento.  Confer- 
enze  tenute  a  Firenze,  1895.  Confer enza:  Carlo  Goldonit 
1707-1793.  Milan,  1896.  Reprint  in  Simpatie  (Studi  e  Ricordi), 
Florence,  1900. 

See  also  under  Collections  and  One-Play  Editions,  1907. 
MARTUCCI,  G.     Carlo  Goldoni  e  il  suo  soggiorno  a  Roma.     Rassegna 

nazionale,  Florence,  vol.  XXIX,  June  i,  1886. 
— A    proposito    di   studi  goldoniani:     Osservazioni   spicciole.    Ibid., 

vol.  XXXII,  1886. 
MASI,  ERNESTO.     La  Vita,  i  tempi,  gli  amid  di  Francesco  Albergati, 

commediografo  del  secolo  XVIII.     Bologna,  1878. 
— La  Vita  e  le  opere  di  Carlo  Goldoni.     Introduction  to  his  "  Lettere 
di  C.  G.  con  proemio  e  note,"  which  see  under  Goldoni's  Corre- 
spondence.    Bologna,  1880. 

— I  Critici  di  Carlo  Gozzi.    Fanfulla  della  Domenica,  Dec.,  1881. 
— Pamela  e  Madame  Angpt.    Ibid.,  Feb.   17,  1884. 
— Le  Fiabe  di  Carlo  Gozzi.     Bologna,  1885. 

— Politica  goldoniana.  Goldoni  e  Leonarda  da  Vinci.  Altri  ap- 
punti goldoniani.  In  Parrucche  e  Sanculotti  nel  secolo  XVIII, 
Milan,  1886. 

— Sulla    storia    del   teatro    italiano    nel   secolo   XVIII:     Studi    di — . 
Florence,  1891.     (Especially  the  chapters  on  Carlo  Gozzi  e  le  sue 
fiabe  teatrali  and  Carlo  Goldoni  e  Pietro  Longhi.) 
— Pel  Centenario  di  Carlo   Goldoni.     Nuova  Antol.,  Feb.  i,  1893. 


660  APPENDICES 

MASI,  ERNESTO— continued. 

— Scelta  di  commedie  di  Carlo  Goldoni.     See  under  "  Collections  and 

One-play  editions,"   1897. 
— Carlo   Goldoni.     Discorso   di  E.  M.  nel  salone  del  cinguecento  il 

25  febbraio,  iQoy.     Florence,  1907. 
— Goldoni  e  I'Olanda.     II  Palvese,  Feb.  25,  1910. 
MATHAR,  L.     Carlo   Goldoni  auf  dem  Deutschen  Theater  des  XVIII 

Jahrhunderts.     Munich,  1910. 
MAYNIAL,  EDOUARD.     Casanova  et  son  temps.     Mercure  de  France. 

Paris,  1911. 

MAZZONI,  GUIDO.     Carlo  Goldoni.     Illustrazione  ital.,  Feb.  24,  1907. 
— Memorle  dl   Carlo    Goldoni.     Rlprodotte  Integralmente  dalla   edl- 
zlone   orlglnale  francese.     Con  prefazlone  e   note.     Florence,   2 
vols.,  1907. 

— L'Ottocento.  in  Storla  letterarla  d'ltalla.     Milan. 

MENEGHEZZI,    FERDINANDO.    Delia    Vita    e   delle    opere   dl   Carlo 
Goldoni.    Memorle    istoriche,    apologetlche    e    crltlche.     Milan, 
1827. 
MERCY,   F.    Les   quatre  masques   du  theatre  Itallen.    Revue  des   deux 

mondes,  vol.  XXIII,  1840. 
See  also  his  three  other  articles  on  Le  theatre  en  Italle,  ibid.,  vols. 

XXI,  XXII  &  XXIII. 
MERLATO,   MARIA.    Marltl   e  cavalier  serventi   nelle   commedie   del 

Goldoni;  Riv.  teatr.  ital.,  anno  VI,  vol.  II,  1906. 
MERZ,  J.     Carlo  Goldoni  In  seiner  Stellung  zum  franzoslschen  Lustsplel: 

Elne  Quellenuntersuchung.     Leipzig,   1903. 

MIGNON,   MAURICE.    Etudes  de  litterature  Itallenne.     Paris,    1913. 
MINOR,  J.     Wahrheit  und  Luge  auf  dem  Theater  und  In  der  Lltteratur. 

Euphorion,  1896. 

MODENA    A    CARLO    GOLDONI    NEL    SECONDO    CENTENARIO 
DELLA  SUA  NASCITA.     Pubblicazione  a  cura  del  Municipio 
e  della  cassa  di  risparmio.     Modena,   1907.     Contains  these  ar- 
ticles: 
— Memorie  sulla  vita  di  Carlo  Goldoni.     Carlo  Borghi.     See  under 

Borghi. 
— Cenni  sulla  famlglla  dl   Carlo    Goldoni.     A.    G.   Spinelli   and  E. 

P.  Vicini. 
— Saggio  di  un  elenco  delle  lettere  a  stampa  dl  Carlo  Goldoni.     A. 

G.  Spinelli. 
— Commedie   e   melodramml   del   Goldoni   rappresentatl   In   Modena. 

Idem. 
— Versl    attinenti   al    Goldoni   uscltl   in   Modena   nel  secolo    XVIII. 

Idem. 

— Paolo  Ferrari  e  Carlo   Goldoni.     Idem. 
— Note  goldoniane  edlte  in  Modena.     Idem. 
— Note  goldoniane  raccolte  fuorl  dl  Modena.     Idem. 
— Carlo    Goldoni   a   Modena.     Paolo    Gazza.     See    under    Gazza. 
— Carlo   Goldoni  e  II  Teatro  francese  del  suo  tempo.     G.  Bertoni. 

See  under  Bertoni. 

— Appunti  per  una  bibliografia  goldonlana   modenese.    A.    G.    Spi- 
nelli. 
— Modena  a   Venezia — Venezia  a  Modena,  pel  2°   centenario  dalla 

nasclta  di  C.  G. 

— Indice  analitlco.     Achille  Martini. 

MOLAND,    LOUIS.    Mollere    et    la    comedle    italienne.     Paris,    2d    ed., 
1867. 


APPENDICES  66 1 

MOLMENTI,  P.   G.     Carlo   Goldoni.    Studio   critico-biografico.     2d  ed., 
Venice,  1880. 

— Carlo   Goldoni.     In  Corriere  della  sera,  Jan.  7-8,  1893. 

— //  Moliere  e  il  Goldoni.  Numero  unico,  Primo  centenario  di  C.  G. 
Venice,  1893. 

— La  Vie  privee  a  Venlse  depuis  I'origine  jusqu'a  la  chute  de  la 
republique.  2d  French  ed.,  Venice,  1895. 

— Le  Gente  di  teatro  al  tempo  del  Goldoni.  Fanfulla  della  Domen- 
ica,  May  26,  1897. 

— //  Teatro  drammatico  nella  vecchia  Venezia.  Fanfulla  della 
Dom.,  July  12,  1903. 

— Carlo    Goldoni.     II   Marzocco,   Florence,  Feb.  25,   1907. 

— Carlo   Goldoni  e  i  Dalmati.     II  Piccolo,  Trieste,  Feb.  25,  1907. 

— La  Citta  del  Goldoni.     Emporium,  vol.  XXV,  Bergamo,  1907. 

— /  Saluti  e  le  ceremonie  a  Venezia  al  tempo  del  Goldoni.  In  Soc- 
corriamo  i  poveri  bambini  rachiciti.  Strenna  1907,  Anno  XIX, 
Venice. 

— Ullluminazione  di  Venezia  al  tempi  di  Goldoni.  In  Pel  11°  cen- 
tenario della  nascita  di  C.  G.,  Milan,  1907. 

— La   Villeggiatura  dei  veneziani  al  tempo  del  Goldoni.     Ed.  Rasi. 

— La  Storia  di  Venezia  nella  vita  privata  dalle  origini  alia  caduta 
della  republica.  $th  ed.,  profusely  illustrated;  vol.  I:  La 
Grandezza;  vol.  II:  Lo  Splendore;  vol.  Ill:  //  Decadimento. 
Bergamo,  1910.  ^n 

MOMIGLIANO,  A.     Lo  Stile  e  I'umorismo  nel  "  Bugiardo."    Asti,  1904.      —    f  V 

— Truffaldino  e  Smeraldina  nel  "  Servitor  e  di  due  padroni." 
L'ltalia  moderna,  1906. 

— "//  Campiello"  di  Carlo  Goldoni.     Ibid.,  Rome,  Jan.  31,  1907. 

— //  Mondo  poetico  del  Goldoni.     Ibid.,  March  15,  1907. 
MONNIER,    PHILIPPE.     Venise    au    XVIII*    siecle.    Lausanne,     1907. 

Anonymous  English  translation:  Boston,  1910.  ./' 

MOORE,    CHARLES    L.     The   Eighteenth    Century    Come   Again.     The    ' 

Dial,  Chicago,  Sep.  18,  1911. 
MORETTI,  A.     J.  A.  Nelli.     Rassegna  nazionale,  Feb.  i,  1890.     (Nelli 

an  important  source  for  Goldoni.) 
MORLEY,  JOHN.     Voltaire.    London,  1872. 

MURRAY,  J.  R.     The  Influence  of  Italian  upon  English  Literature  dur- 
ing the  XVIth  and  XVIIth  Centuries.     Cambridge,  1886. 
MUSATTI,   CESARE.     Goldoni  in  scena.     Numero  unico:    Primo  cen- 
tenario di  C.  G.     Venice,  1893. 

— Drammi  musicali  di  Goldoni  e  d'altri,  tratti  dalle  sue  commedie. 
Ateneo  veneto,  vol.  XXI,  Venice,  1898.  Reprint:  Bassano,  1900. 

— /  Drammi  musicali  di  Carlo  Goldoni;  appunti  bibliografici  e 
cronologici.  Ateneo  veneto,  vol.  XXV,  1902. 

— Dal  Vocabolario  veneziano  di  Carlo  Goldoni.  Ibid.,  Jan.-Feb., 
1906. 

— //  Gergo  dei  barcaiuoli  veneziani  e  Carlo  Goldoni.  Ibid.,  Jan.- 
Feb.,  1907. 

— "  Le  Donne  de  casa  soa"  e  una  satira  contra  Goldoni.  II  Pal- 
vese,  Trieste,  Feb.  24,  1907.  (Satire  is  a  letter  by  "  N.  H.  N.  N." 
=  Giorgio  Baffo.) 

— Goldoni  e  la  medicina.     Marzocco,  Feb.  25,  1907. 

— //  Teatro  della  commedia  a  Venezia  al  tempo  di  Goldoni.  La 
Vedetta,  Fiume,  Feb.  25,  1907. 

— Goldoni  e  I'allattamento  moderno.  In  Soccorriamo  i  poveri  bam- 
bini rachitici.  Strenna  pel  1907,  Venice.  (For  A,  i,  82.) 


662  APPENDICES 

MUSATTI,  CESARE— continued. 

— Spunt'i   di   dialetto   venezlano    nei   " Rusteghi"   di    Carlo    Goldoni. 

Venice,  1910. 
— Carlo  Goldoni  e  il  vocabolario  veneziano.     Venice,  1913. 

NATALI,   G.     Carlo   Goldoni  a  Pavia.     Bollettino  della  societa  pavese 

di  storia  patria,  vol.  VII,  Pavia,  1907. 

— //  Pensiero  sociale  di  C.  Goldoni.     Letture  venete,  March  i,  1907. 
NERI,   ACHILLE.     Aneddoti  goldoniani.     Ancona,    1883.     This  book   of 

82  pages  embodies  the  first  five  of  the  following  articles: 
— Un   Giudizio  di   C.   G.  intorno  a  Shakespeare.     Riv.  Europ.,  voL 

XXII,  1880. 

—P.  G.  Grosley  e  C.  G.     Ibid.,  vol.  XXIII,  1881. 
— C.  G.  e  i  liberi  muratori.     Ibid.,  vol.  XXVI,  1881. 
— C.  G.  e  Scipione  Mafiei.     Ibid.,  vol.  XXVII,  1882. 
— Comante,  Aurisbe,  e  Polisseno  Fegeio.     Fanfulla  della  Domenica,, 

June  18,  1882. 
— Una  Commedia  dell'arte.     Giorn.  Stor.,  vol.  I,  1883.     (//  Medico 

volante,  Bartoli,  p.  105,  and  analysis  of  manner  in  which  it  was 

used  to  make  a  modern  comedy.) 
— Bibliografia   goldoniana.     Giorn.    degli    eruditi    e    curiosi,    Padua, 

vol.    Ill,    1883.     (A    discussion    of    various    editions    of    Gold.'s 

works.) 
— Un    Ritratto    del    Goldoni.     Illustrazione    ital.,     Milan,    numbers 

XX-XXII,  1884. 
— A  proposito  di  "  Un  Tipo  fortunato."     Gazzetta  letteraria,  Turin, 

Oct.   24,    1885.     (A  discussion   of   article   by   F.    U.   Maranzana, 

which  see.) 
— Studi   bibliografici  e  letter 'ari.     Genoa,   1890.     Embodies  next  two 

articles: 
— L'Ultima   opera   di    Carlo    Goldoni.     Num.   unico    Carlo    Goldonit 

Venice,  Sep.  20,  1883. 
— L'Ultima  supplica  di  Carlo  Goldoni.     Gazzetta  letter.,  Turin,  Oct. 

2,  1887. 
— Una  Lettera   ignota   di   Carlo    Goldoni.     Natura   ed   Arte,   Milan, 

Feb.  5,  1893-94. 
— Aneddoti    contemporanei    intorno    al   "  Bourru    bienfaisant."     Bib- 

lioteca  delle  scuole  italiane,  Oct.  15,  1893. 
— Carlo    Goldoni    in    Francia.     Natura    ed   Arte,    Milan,    vol.    XII, 

1896-97. 
— Una  Fonte  dell'  Ecossaise  di  Voltaire.    Rass.  bibl.  della  lett.  ital.,, 

Pisa,  Feb.  2,  1899. 
— La  Pensione  della  Republica  Francese  a  Carlo   Goldoni  morente.. 

Illustrazione  popolare,  Feb.  24,  1907. 

— La  Casa  dove  morl  Carlo  Goldoni.     Ibid.,  Feb.  24,  1907. 
— Andrea    (sic)    Chenier  e    Carlo    Goldoni.     La   Maschera,   Naples, 

Feb.  24,  1907. 
— '  Confidenti'  in  una   commedia  del   Goldoni    (A,   i,   34).     Soccor- 

riamo   i   poveri  bambini   rachitici,   Strenna  pel   1907,   Venice. 
— Passatempi     goldoniani.    Ateneo     veneto,     Jan.-Feb.,     1907.     Em- 
bodies next  two  articles. 
— La  Voce  del  contemporanei.     Ibid.,  1907. 
— Autodifesa  del  Goldoni.     Ibid.,  1907. 
NEUBAUER,     CARL.     Carlo     Goldoni.     Ein     Gedenltblatt    zum    200** 

Geburtstage    (25   Februar    1907}.    Biihne    und    Welt,    vol.    IX, 

1907.     (Important  for  Gold.'s  vogue  in  Germany.) 


APPENDICES  663 

NOVELLI,  AUGUSTO.  La  Casa  di  Goldoni.  Rass.  internazionale, 
Florence,  vol.  II,  1900. 

OLIVA,   DOMENICO.     Carlo    Goldoni.     Giorn.   d'ltalia,   Feb.   24,   1907. 
— "//  Campiello"  di  Carlo  Goldoni.     Ibid.,  Nov.  24,  1907. 
—"L'Avaro"  di  C.  G.     Ibid.,  April  i,  1910. 
ORTESCHI,  LUIGI.    Sulle  passioni,  i  costumi  e  il  modo  di  vivere  de' 

Veneziani.     Venice,  1859. 

ORTIZ,     MARIA.     //     Canone    principale     della     poetica     goldoniana. 
Memoria  Jresentata   alia  R.  Accad.   di  Archeologia,  Letter  e   e 
Belle  Arti.     Naples,  1905. 
— Commedie   esotiche   del    Goldoni.     Riv.    teatr.    ital.,   Naples,    vols. 

IX-X,  1905. 

— Goldoni  e  Regnard.     Ibid.,  vol.  XI,  1906. 
—La  Cultura  del  Goldoni.     Giorn.  stor.  della  lett.  ital.,  vol.  XLVIII, 

1906. 

— Goldoni  in  Francia.     Chorus,  Naples,  Sep.  15,  1906. 
— Goldoni     e     Maffei.     Soccorriamo     i     poveri     bambini     rachitici. 

Strenna  pel  1907,  Venice. 
ORTOLANI,    GIUSEPPE.     Della   Vita   e  dell'   arte  di    Carlo    Goldoni. 

Venice,   1907. 
— Venezia    nel   periodo   goldoniano.     Soccorriamo    i    poveri   bambini 

rachitici.     Strenna  pel  1907,  Venice. 
— //  Settecento.     In  press. 
ORVIETO,  ANGIOLO.    //  Veleno  d'Aristarco    (Baretti).     II  Marzocco, 

Feb.  25,  1907. 
OSTERMAN,  M.  V.    Servi  e  servette  nelle  commedie  di  C.  G.     Critica 

ed  Arte,  Catania,  March,  1907. 
OVIDIO,  D'.    Saggi  critici  (For  A,  i,  76).    Naples,  1878. 

PAGANETTI,  MARIO.     Carlo   Goldoni    Milan,  1880. 

PAGLICCI-BROZZI,  A.  La  Politica  di  Carlo  Goldoni.  Scena  illus- 
trata,  Florence,  Dec.  i,  1888. 

PAGLIARI,  ANITA.  La  Donna  nella  vita  e  nelle  commedie  di  Carlo 
Goldoni.^  Vita  femmin.  ital.,  Rome,  April,  1907. 

PARFAICT,  FRERES.  Histoire  de  I'ancien  theatre  italien  depuis  son 
origine  en  France  jusqu'a  sa  suppression  en  I'annee  1697. 
Suivte  des  extraits  ou  canevas  des  meilleures  pieces  italiennes 
qui  n'ont  jamais  ete  imprimees.  Paris,  1767. 

PASCOLATO,  A.  Carlo  Goldoni  awocato.  Nuova  Antologia,  Dec.  15, 
1883. 

PASQUALINI,  E.     Carlo  Goldoni.    Appunti  critici.     Assisi,  1909. 

PEISERT,  P.     Moliere's  Leben  in  Biihnenbearbeitung.     Halle,  1905. 

PELLEGRINI,  F.  Carlo  Goldoni  ed  Alessandro  Manzoni.  See  Anteneo 
veneto  a  Carlo  Goldoni. 

PELLIZZARO,  G.  B.  Sopra  la  commedia  di  Carlo  Goldoni  "  Le  Fern- 
mine  puntigliose"  Rivista  teatr.  ital.,  vol.  XII,  Florence,  1908. 

P.,  G.  B.     Carlo   Goldoni  a  Genova.     Gazz.  lett.,  Turin,  Jan.  21,   1882. 

PETROCCHI,  P.     Carlo   Goldoni  e  la  commedia.     Milan,   1893. 

PETSCH,  ROBERT.  A  Jest  of  Goldoni' s  in  Goethe's  "Faust."  Mod- 
ern Language  Review,  vol.  VII,  1912,  Cambridge  University 
Press. 

PIAZZA,  ETTORE.  //  Tipo  dell'  Avaro  in  Plauto  e  nei  principali 
suoi  imitatori.  Foligno,  1887. 

PIAZZA,  GIULIO.  Goldoni  a  Chioggia.  Prologo  alle  "  Baruffe  chioz- 
zotte."  N.  106  of  Raccolta  di  Monologhi,  Florence,  1902. 


664 


APPENDICES 


PIAZZI,  GllJLlO— continued. 

— Mariti    e    cavalier    serventi    nelle    commedie    del    Goldoni.     Riv. 

teatr.    ital.,    Naples,   vol.   XI,    1906.      (A   summary   of    Merlato's 

book  of  same  title.) 
— Le   Didascalie    di    Carlo    Goldoni.     II    Palvese,    Trieste,    Feb.    24, 

1907. 

— Goldoni   autocritico.     La   Vedetta,   Fiume,  vol.   I,    1907. 
PICCINI,   GIULIO    (JARRO).     Carlo    Goldoni  in   Toscana.     La   Nazi- 
one,  Florence,  Jan.   12,   1907. 
PICCIOLA,   G.     A   Proposito  dell'  epistolario  di   C.   G.     Fanfulla   della 

Domenica,   May  23,    1880.      (Discussion   of  the  collections   publ. 

by  Urbani  and  Masi.) 
PICCIOTTO,    JAMES.     Italian    Comedy    and    Carlo    Goldoni.     Dublin 

University  Magazine,  vol.  LVII,   1871. 
PICCO,    F.     Goldoni    a    Piacenza.     Bolletino    stor.    piacentino,    vol.    II, 

1907. 
PICENARDI,   G.   SOMMI.     Un  Rivale  del   Goldoni:   I' A  bate   Chiari  e 

il  suo  teatro  comico.     Milan,   1902. 
PIETRIBONI,    E.     "La    Tavola    rotonda,"    e   "  L'Awocato    veneziano" 

di   Carlo   Goldoni.     Padua,   1894. 

RABANY,  CHARLES.     Carlo   Goldoni.    Le  Theatre  et  la  vie  en  Italic 

au  XVIIIe  siecle.     Paris,  1896. 
RASI,    LUIGI.     I    Comici    italiani.     Biografia,    bibliografia,    iconografia. 

Florence,  vol.  I,  part  i,  1897,  part  2,  no  date,  but  1898  or  after; 

vol.  II,  1905. 
— Per  la  inter pretazione  dell'  opera  goldoniana.     II  Marzocco,  Feb. 

25,  1907. 

— See  under  Editions  of  Goldoni's  Works. 
RASTRELLI,  UGO.    //  "T.  Tasso  "  di  W.  von  Goethe  e  il  "  T.  Tasso  " 

di   Carlo    Goldoni.     Nota  critica.     Sangineso,   1903. 
RATTI,    VINCENZO.     Carlo    Goldoni.     Discorso     (amplified),    letto    il 

77   Marzo    1874   nella   festa    degli   illustri   scrittori   e   pensatori 
^     italiani.     Asti,   1874. 

RAVA,  ALDO.     Pietro  Longhi.     Bergamo,   1909. 
RE,    EMILIO.     Carlo     Goldoni.    L'ltalia    moderna,    Rome,    March    15, 

1907. 
— La   Tradizione  comica  dell'  "  Imprudente"    (A,  i,  24,   61)  :     Bar- 

bieri-Goldoni.     Rivista  teatrale,  March-April,  1910. 
— La   Commedia  veneziana   e  il   Goldoni.     Giorn.   stor.,  vol.  LVIII, 

1*911. 
REINHARDTSTOETTNER,     KARL     VON-.     Plautus.    Spdtere     Bear- 

beitungen     plautinischer     Lustspiele.     Ein     Beitrag     zur     <ver- 

gleichenden     Litter  aturgeschichte.      Leipzig,      1886.      (Important 

for  Plautus  as  a  Goldonian  source.) 
RICCI,  C.     Nota  goldoniana.     Num.  unico  Carlo  Goldoni,  Venice,  1883 

(Concerning  A,  i,  69). 

—I  Teatri  di  Bologna  nei  secoli  XVII  e  XVIII.     Bologna,  1888. 
RICCOBONI,    L.     Histoire    de    I'ancien    theatre    italien    depuis    la    de- 
cadence de  la   comedie  latine,  avec  un  catalogue  des  tragedies 

et  comedies  italiennes  imprimees  depuis  Van  1500  jusqu'a  Van 

1650,  et  une  dissertation  sur  la  tragedie  moderne.     Paris,  2  vols., 

1730-31. 
RICHARDSON,   SAMUEL.    Pamela;   or,  Virtue  Rewarded.    London,  3 

vols,  1740-43- 
RIVALTA,  ERCOLE.     Carlo  Goldoni.     Nuova  Antologia,  Feb.  16,  1907. 

(Study  of  variety  and  truth  of  Gold.'s  characters.) 


APPENDICES  665 

RIZZI,   F.     La   Commedla  e  il   Goldoni.     Antologia  periodica   di  lett.  e 

d'arte,  vol.  II,  1906. 
//    Goldoni   studente.     Studium,   Riv.   universitaria   mensile,    vol.   II, 

1907. 
ROSSI,  G.  G.  DE-.     Del  Moderno  teatro  italiano,  e  del  suo  restauratore 

Carlo    Goldoni;    raggionamenti    recitati    nelle    adunanze    degli 

Arcadi.     Bassano,  1794,  a  spese  Remondini  di  Venezia. 
ROYER,  ALPHONSE.     Theatre  fiabesque  de  Carlo   Gozzi,  tr adult  pour 

la  premiere  fois.     Paris,    1865. 
— Histoire  universelle  du  theatre.     Paris,  6  vols.,  1869. 

SAAL,  J.  H.     Des  Herrn  Carl  Goldoni  Sdmmtliche  Lustspiele.     Leipzig, 
1767-77.      (German  transl.  of  44  of  Gold.'s  plays.) 

SAND,  MAURICE.  Masques  et  bouffons.  (Comedie  italienne.}  Paris, 
2  vols.,  1860. 

SANESI,  GIUSEPPE.     Baretti  e  Goldoni.    Rass.  naz.,  vol.  LXIX,   1893. 

SARCEY,  FR.  Le  "Moliere"  de  Goldoni.  Revue  des  cours  et  con- 
ferences, vol.  VI,  1897-98. 

SCALA,  FLAMINIO.  //  Teatro  delle  favole  rappresentative  overo  la 
ricreatione  comica,  boscareccia  e  tragica,  divisa  in  cinquanta 
giornate  composte  da  Flaminio  Scala  detto  Flavio,  comico  del 
Serenissimo  Signor  Duca  di  Mantova.  Venice,  1611.  (Collec- 
tion of  50  scenarios.) 

SCHEDONI,  P.  Delle  Commedie,  e  delle  commedie  del  Goldoni.  Vol. 
I  of  his  Delle  Influenze  morali.  Modena,  1824.  (Moralising 
analyses  of  Gold.'s  plays.) 

SCHERILLO,    MICHELE.     La    Prima    corn-media    musicale    a    Venezia. 

Giorn.  stor.  della  lett.  ital.,  vol.  I,  1883. 

— Storia  letterarla  dell'  opera  buffa  napoletana.     Naples,  1883. 
— Die  Atellanen  und  das  heutige  Volkslustspiel  Neapels.     Das  Aus- 

land,  Monaco,  April  21,  1884. 

— La  Commedla  dell'  arte  in  Italia.     Studi  e  profili.    Turin,  1884. 
— La    Commedla    dell'    arte.     In    La    Vita    italiana    del    settecento, 

Milan,   1896. 
— The  Scenarios  of  Della  Porta.    The  Mask,  Florence,  July,  1913. 

SCHLEGEL,  AUGUST  WILHELM.  Lectures  on  Dramatic  Art  and 
Literature.  Transl.  by  John  Black,  2d.  ed.,  revised  by  Rev.  A. 
J.  W.  Morrison,  M.A.,  Bohn's  Library,  London,  1904. 

SCHMIDBAUER,  R.     Das  Komische  bei  Goldoni.     Munich,  1906. 

SEDGWICK,   H.   D.     A   Short  History   of  Italy.     New  York,   1905. 

SEGRE,  CARLO.  Goethe  e  "  Le  Baruffe  chiozzotte."  In  his  Saggi  crit- 
ici  di  letteratura  stranlera.  Florence,  1894. 

SIMONI,  R.     Carlo  Goldoni  e  II  dialetto.     II  Marzocco,  Feb.  25,  1907. 

SKOLA,  J.  Corneille's  "  Le  Menteur  "  und  Goldoni 's  "  II  Bugiardo  "  in 
ihrem  Verhdltnlsse  zu  Alarcon's  "La  Verdad  sospechosa." 
Pilsen,  1883. 

SMITH,  JAMES.  A  Venetian  Dramatist.  The  Victorian  Review,  Lon- 
don, July  i,  1880. 

SMITH,     WINIFRED.     Italian     and     Elizabethan     Comedy.     Modern 

Philology,  vol.  V,  1907-08. 
— The  Academies   and   the   Popular  Italian  Stage   in   the  Sixteenth 

Century.     Ibid.,  vol.  VIII,  1910-11. 

— The  Commedla  dell'  Arte.     A  Study  in  Italian  Popular  Comedy. 
New  York,   1912. 

SOCIETA  DEGLI  AUTORI  DRAMMATICI  ITALIANI.  Centenario 
di  Carlo  Goldoni.  Numero  unico.  Rome,  1893. 


666  APPENDICES 

SOMBORN.    Das    Venezianische    Volkslied.     Heidelberg,    1901.     (Many 

references  to  Gold.) 
SOMMI-PICENARDI,    G.     Un  Rivale  del    Goldoni.    L' Abate   Chiari  e 

il  suo   teatro   comico.     Milan,    1902. 
SPINELLI,  A.  G.     Goldoni  a  Milano.     Pungolo  della  Dom.,  Milan,  Dec. 

16,  1883. 
— Bibliografia    goldoniana.     Saggio    riflettente    le    cose    ed'ite    o    in 

cor  so  di  stampa  dal  25  Aprile  MDCCXXVI  al  6  Febbraio  del 

MDCCXCIII,  doe  dalla  pubblicazione  del  sonetti  udinese  alia 

morte  del  poeta.     Milan,  1884. 

— See  under  Printed  Collections  of  Gold.'s  Correspondence. 
— La  Prima  rappresentazione  della  "  Vedova  scaltra  "  del   Goldoni. 

II  Panaro,  Modena,  Feb.  3,   1893. 
— /  Goldoni  cittadini  veneti  e  modenesi.     Albero  da  ricerche  di  Carlo 

Borghi,  Ermanno   von  Loehner  ed  A.    G.  Spinelli.     Ibid.,   Feb. 

5>  *%93- 

— Goldoni  a  Modena.     Ibid.,  Feb.  5,  1893. 
— //  Nonno   del   Goldoni    (Note  currenti,  calamo   dall'  Archivio   di 

Stato    Modenese}.     Ibid.,    March    5,    1893.     And    Soccorriamo    i 

poveri   bambini   rachitici,   Strenna   1907,   Venice. 

— //  Colonnello  Alberto  Goldoni.     II  Panaro,  Modena,  May  14,  1893. 
— Chi  era  I'abbe  J.  B.  V.  nelle  Memorie  del  Goldoni?     La  Provincia 

di  Modena,  June  22-24,   1901. 

— Tre  note  goldoniane.     Num.  unico  Pro   Vaglia,  Modena,  1901. 
— Quattro  note  goldoniane.     La  Provincia  di  Modena,  Feb.  26,  1903. 
— Gli  Amid  del  Goldoni  a  Milano.     Pel  11°  Centenario  della  nascita 

di  C.  G.,  Milan,  1907. 
— See  under  Modena  a  Carlo  Goldoni  nel  secondo  centenario  della 

sua  nascita. 

STOPPATO,  L.    La  Commedia  popolare  in  Italia.     Padua,  1887. 
STRYIENSKI,    C.    Mesdames    de   France,   filles    de   Louis   XV.    Docu- 
ments inedits.     Paris,   1910. 
SUSAN,    CAMILLO    VON-.     Goldoni' s    "La    Locandiera."    Mahrisches 

Tagblatt,  Oct.  27,  1893. 
— Carlo    Goldoni,  zur  zweijahrhundertfeier  seiner    Geburt.     Oester- 

reichische  Rundschau,  Vienna,  vol.  X,   1907. 

— Goethe,  und  Goldonis  "La  Locandiera."     Ibid.,  Feb.  i,  1909. 
SYMONDS,  JOHN  ADDINGTON.     Memoirs  of  Carlo   Gozzi.     Trans- 
lated into  English.     With  Essays  on  Italian  Impromptu  Comedy, 

Gozzi's  Life,   The  Dramatic  Fables,  and  Pietro   Longhi,  by  the 

Translator.    London,  2  vols.,   1890. 

TARGIONI-TOZZETTI.     Carlo    Goldoni   a   Livorno.     Labronica,   Leg- 
horn, 1899. 

— Antologia  della  poesia  italiana.     Leghorn,  1901. 

— Prefazione  alle  commedie  sulla  villeggiatura.     Florence,  1909. 
TESSIER,  ANDREA.     Commedie  di   Goldoni  ed  un   opuscolo   di  critica 
drammatica.     Giorn.   degli   eruditi   e  dei  curiosi,  Padua,  vol.  I, 
1882. 

— Bibliografia    goldoniana.     Ibid.,     vol.     II,     1883.      (Discussion     of 
Gold.'s  Miscellanea.) 

— Intorno  ad  una  edizione  goldoniana.     Archivio  veneto,  vol.  XXVI, 

1883.  (Zatta  ed.) 

— Ancora  intorno  ad  una  edizione  goldoniane.     Ibid.,  vol.  XXVIII, 

1884.  (Garbo  ed.) 


APPENDICES  667 

— Goldonl,  Cavour,  Verdi.     Giorn.  degli  eruditi  e  del  curiosi,  Padua, 

vol.  IV,  1884. 
THAYER,  W.  R.     The  Dawn  of  Italian  Independence.    Boston,  1902. 

— A  Short  History  of  Venice.     Boston,  1908. 
TIECK,   LUDWIG.     " Der  Liigner"    (A,   i,   35)    von    Goldoni.     In   his 

Kritische  Schriften,  vol.  Ill,  p.  219  et  seq.,  Leipzig,  1852. 
TOLDO,  P.     Figaro  et  ses  origines.     Milan,  1893. 

— Se   il   Diderot   abbia   imitato   il    Goldoni.     Giorn.   stor.    della   lett. 

ital.,  vol.  XXVI,  1895.^ 
— Tre  commedie  francesi  inedite  di   Carlo   Goldoni    (A,   i,   12,   152, 

1 60).     Ibid.,  vol.  XXIX,  1897. 
— Attinenze  fra   il   teatro   comico   di   Voltaire   e   quello   del   Goldoni. 

Ibid.,  vol.  XXXI,  1898. 
— Moliere    en    Italic.     Journal    of    Comparative    Literature,    vol.    I, 

1903. 
— Etudes  sur  le  theatre  de  Regnard.    Revue  d'histoire  litt.  de  France, 

vol.  X,   1903,  and  vol.  XII,   1905. 

— Diderot  e  il  "  Burbero  benefico."    Ateneo  veneto,  Jan.-Feb.,  1907. 
— UCEuvre  de  Moliere  et  sa  fortune  en  Italie.     Turin,  1910. 
TOMMASEO,  N.     Storia  civile  nella  letter  aria.    Turin,  1872.     (Impor- 
tant for  Chiari,  Gasparo  Gozzi,  and  G.  B.  Roberti.) 
— See  under  Gasparo  Gozzi. 
TORRE,  A.  DELLA-.     Saggio  di  una  bibliografia  delle  opere  intorno  a 

Carlo    Goldoni    (1793-1907}.     Florence,   1908. 
TOSELLI,  GIACINTA.     Saggio  di  uno  studio  estetico  e  stilistico  delle 

commedie  goldoniane  dialettali.     Venice,   1904. 

TOURNEUX,  M.    (Editor).     Correspondance  litteraire,  philosophique  et 
critique  de  Grimm,  Diderot,  Raynal,  Meister,  revue  sur  les  textes 
originaux.     Paris,  16  vols.,  1877-82. 
TOVINI,  MARIETTA.    Studio  su  Carlo   Goldoni.    Florence,  1900. 

URBANI  DE  GHELTOF,  G.  M.    Le  Maschere  in  Venezia.     1877. 

— Le  Colonne  della  Piazetta.     Venice,  1878. 

— Vocabolario  di  Carlo  Goldoni  ad  interpretazione  delle  di  lul 
commedie.  Page  107  et  seq.  of  his  Lettere  di  Carlo  Goldoni 
(See  under  Printed  Collections  of  Gold.'s  Correspondence). 
Venice,  1880.  Reprinted  from  vol.  XIII  of  the  Fantino-Olzati 
ed.  of  Gold.'s  works,  with  a  few  additions  and  many  errors, 
and  represented  as  edited  from  an  autograph  Ms.  of  Gold. 
The  glossary  is  the  work  of  Bertoldo,  not  of  Goldoni. 

— Carlo  Goldoni  a  Chioggia.  Ateneo  veneto,  S.  VII,  vol.  II,  Dec., 
1883. 

— Un'  Appendice  alle  Memorie  di  Carlo  Goldoni.  Num.  unico  Carlo 
Goldoni,  Venice,  1883.  Represented  as  edited  from  Gold.'s  Ms., 
in  possession  of  Signor  Urbani,  which  continues  Gold.'s  biog- 
raphy from  1787,  where  the  Memoirs  stop,  to  end  of  Dec.,  1792. 

VALERI,    A.     (CARLETTA).    Dove    abitb    Goldoni    a    Roma.     Nuova 

Rassegna,  Rome,  May  14,  1893. 
— Un  Logogrifo  di  Carlo   Goldoni    (Mem.  II,  p.  395).     Ibid.,  May 

21,  1893. 

— Gli  Scenari  di  Easilio  Locatelbi.     Ibid.,  1894. 
— Intorno  ad  una  commedia  del  Goldoni  (A,  i,  30).     Fanfulla  della 

Domenica,  June  2,  1901. 

— Una  Bugia  di  Carlo  Goldoni.     Rassegna  internaz.,  vol.  VIII,  1902. 
VAPEREAU,  L.  G.    Dictionnaire  des  litter atures.    Paris,  1884. 


668  APPENDICES 

VEDETTA,     LA.     Numero    goldoniano.     Feb.     25,     1907.     Articles     by 

Guido    Mazzoni,    Innocenzo,    Simoni,    Cesare   Musatti,   Merlato, 

and  others. 

VERRI,    COUNT   PIETRO.    La    Vera   commedia.     Venice,    1755.    Pub- 
lished under  pseudonym  of  Midonte  Priamideo. 
VERRIER,   CHARLES.     Goldoni  et  la  reforme  du  theatre   italien.    La 

Grande  revue,  Feb.  25,  1908. 
VIANELLO,    L.     Goldoni    e    i    suoi    tempi.     Woljgango    Goethe    e    le 

"  Baruffe   chiozzotte."    Num.  unico  Primo   centenario   di   C.    G., 

Venice,  1893. 
VICINI,    G.    B.     (and    others).    Delia    Vera    poesia    teatrale,    epistole 

poetiche   modenesi   dirette   al   signor  abate   Pietro    Chiari   colle 

riposte  del  medesimo.     Modena,  1754. 
VOLTAIRE.     (Euvres.     Ed.    Beuchot,    Paris,    70   vols.    and    2   vols.    for 

index,  1828  et  seq.;  Ed.  Moland,  Paris,  50  vols.  and  2  vols.  for 

index,  1877-83. 

WESSELOFSKY,  A.     Alichino  e  Aredodesa.     Giorn.  stor.  della  lett.  ital., 

vol.  XI,  1888.     (On  the  origin  of  Arlecchino.) 
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INDEX 


INDEX 


NOTE. — "G"     refers     always     to   Carlo  Goldoni.     Further  reference 
to    all    of    G's    writings    will    be   found  in  Appendix  A. 


Abagigi,  321;  in  Women's  Tittle- 
Tattle,  322. 

Accademia  della  Crusca,  410,  436. 

Accademia  dell'  Arcadia,  see  Ar- 
cadian Academy,  The. 

Accademia  Granellesca,  407-408, 
410,  411-412. 

Acerra,  108. 

Adelaide,  Madame,  G  engaged  to 
teach,  483;  G  meets,  484;  G 
tutor  to,  483-486;  G  character- 
izes, 488;  discontinues  lessons 
with  G,  491 ;  assures  G  of  her 
protection,  491 ;  obtains  pension 
for  G,  492;  secures  places  for 
G's  nepew,  493. 

Adriani,   154. 

Adulatore,  L'  (The  Flatterer),  de- 
scribed, 252;  195,  240. 

^neas,   178. 

^Eneid,  395. 

^sop,  435. 

Afflisio,  Elizabeth  Moreri  d',  see 
Passalacqua,  La. 

Agathon,  421. 

Aiken,  253. 

Alarcon,  292. 

Albafiorita,  Count  d',  in  La  Locan- 
diera,  265-267. 

Albergati-Capacelli,  Marquis  Fran- 
cesco, meets  G  in  Bologna,  201; 
writes  Voltaire  of  G,  202;  lover 
of  stage,  203;  G  writes  to,  466, 
472,  473,  482,  483,  486,  491,  494, 
503;  commends  G  to  Voltaire, 
534;  Voltaire  writes  to,  534-535; 
G  writes  to,  566,  568,  580. 

Alberto,  in  The  Venetian  Advo- 
cate, 303 ;  in  Marriage  by  Com- 
petition, 514. 

Alcalde  de  Zalamea,  L',  452. 


671 


Alcamo,  Ciullo  d',  431. 

Alceste,  252,  428,  437,  548. 

Aldrich,  Richard,  276. 

Alfieri,  87,   154,   197,  583. 

Alfonso  of  Ferrara,  Don,  437. 

Algarotti,  230,  479. 

Alleyn,  45. 

Almanach   des   Spectacles,   L',    504. 

Alonso,  in   The   Cavalier  and  the 

Lady,  242,  245,  246,  384-385. 
Alton,    Lady,    in   L'Ecossaise,   379, 

382. 
Amalasunta     (Amalasontha),     46, 

49,  50,  52,  53,  134- 
Amante  di  se  medesimo,  U    (The 

Lover  of  Himself],  452. 
Amante    militaire,    L'    (The   Mili- 
tary Lover),  described,  384-385; 

200. 
Amelia,   translated   by   Mme.   Ric- 

coboni,  469. 
America,  G's  plays  in,  511;   G  on 

future  of,  579. 
Amore    delle    tre    melarancie,    L' 

(The    Love    of    the    Three    Or- 
anges), 416-421. 
Amore     paternal,      L'      (Paternal 

Love),    described,    502-503;    472, 

480. 
Amor i  di  Arlecchino  e  di  Camilla, 

Gli  ( The  Love  of  Harlequin  and 

Camilla),  473,  480,  505. 
4mori   di   Zelinda   e  Lindoro,   Gli 

(Zelinda    and    Lindoro' s    Love), 

506. 
Amour    medecin,    U     (Love    as    a 

Doctor),  550. 

Ancona,  A.  D.',  99-100,  172. 
Andreini,  Francesco,   115. 
Andreini,  Isabella,  100,   115. 
Andreuve,    in   Pamela    Unmarried, 

367-368. 
Angelica,  37. 


672 


INDEX 


Angelique,  in  The  Beneficent  Bear, 
520-522. 

Angelini,  448. 

Angellino  belverde,  V,  421. 

Anonymous,  The,  54,  55,  62. 

Anselmo,  in  The  Cavalier  and  the 
Lady,  273 ;  in  The  Antiquarian's 
Family,  299 ;  in  Marriage  by 
Competition,  514. 

Antibes,  G  in,  467,  468. 

Antiquarian's  Family,  The,  see 
Famiglia  dell'  antiquario,  La. 

Anzoletto,  in  The  New  House,  341- 
343 ;  in  One  of  the  Last  Evenings 
of  the  Carnival,  424;  in  The 
Public  Square,  463. 

Apatista,  L',  453. 

Apologetic  Prologue  for  The  Art- 
ful Widow,  An,  392-393. 

Aquileia,  G  visits,  31. 

Arbes,  Cesare  D',  125,  164-167, 
179,  183,  184,  188,  421. 

Arbes,  Rosalina  D',  183. 

Arcadia,  L',  see  Arcadian  Acad- 
emy, The. 

Arcadian  Academy,  The,  at  Rome, 
153;  history  of,  153-159;  at  Si- 
ena, 159;  at  Pisa,  160,  163;  429. 

Arcigranellone,  407. 

Arconati-Visconti,  Count  Giuseppe 
Antonio,  191,  196,  217,  219,  402 

Aretino,  87. 

Argental,  Count  d',  480,  488. 

Argentina,  in  The  Clever  Lady's 
Maid,  306. 

Ariosto,  85,  87,  90,  453. 

Aristophanes,   132. 

Aristotle,  143. 

Arlecchino,  in  the  improvised  com- 
edy, 105-107;  101,  102,  103,  109, 
no,  113,  115,  116,  117,  119,  126, 
141,  143,  177,  178,  503;  in  The 
Man  of  the  World,  140;  in 
The  Artful  Widow,  233-234;  in 
The  Obedient  Daughter,  290; 
in  The  Antiquarian's  Family, 
299;  in  The  Housekeeper,  307; 
in  The  Respectable  Girl,  319; 
in  The  Swindler,  384-385;  in 
The  Military  Lover,  385 ;  in  The 
Good  Genius  and  the  Bad  Gen- 
ius, 517. 

Arlequin  empereur  dans  la  lune, 
78. 


Arnauld,  Sophie,  477. 

Arrighi,  40-41. 

Artful  Bride-Elect,  The,  see  Sposa 
sagace,  La. 

Artful  Widow,  The,  see  Fedova 
scaltra,  La. 

Arthur,  Lord,  in  Pamela  Unmar- 
ried, 367-372,  376. 

Atella,  107. 

Atellenae,  96,  112. 

Atti  granelleschi,  415. 

Aumont,  Due  d',  G  waits  upon, 
469. 

Auspingh,  Count  of,  in  Pamela 
Unmarried,  367-368. 

Austria,  114. 

Autre  danger,  L',  305. 

Avare,  L'  (The  Miser],  548-550. 

Avare  fastueux,  L'  (The  Ostenta- 
tious Miser),  529-531;  550. 

Avaro,  L'  (The  Miser},  549-550. 

Avaro  geloso,  L'  (The  Jealous 
Miser],  550. 

Avignon,  G  in,  408. 

Avventuriere  alia  modo,  L',  394. 

Avventuriere  onorato,  L'  (The 
Honest  Adventurer],  304-305. 

Avventure  della  villeggiatura,  Le 
(Hazards  of  Country  Life],  258, 
260,  458. 

Avvocato  veneziano,  L'  (The  Ve- 
netian Advocate],  described,  303- 
304;  188,  480. 


B 


Babilonio,  name  for  Pantalone,  103. 

Baccherini,  Anna,  75-76. 

Bach,   137. 

Bachaumont,  492,  505,  506,  526. 

Baffo,  Giorgio,  398. 

Bagattino,    name    for    Arlecchino, 

105. 

Bagolino,  name  for  Brighella,  106. 
Bainer,     in     The     Dutch     Doctor, 

449- 
Balestra,  in  The  Cavalier  and  the 

Lady,  242. 
Baletti-Benozzi,      Rosa      Giovanni, 

500. 

Ball,  The,  see  Festino,  II. 
Bancarotta,  La   (The  Bankruptcy], 

described,  144-145;   74,   '47,  347, 

509. 


INDEX 


673 


Barbara,  in  the  Zelinda  plays,  507- 

508. 

Barbary,  446. 
Barber   of  Seville,    The,   see  Bar- 

biere  di  Siviglia,  II. 
Bar  bier  de  Seville,  Le,  571. 
Barbiera,  Raffaello,  589. 
Barbiere  di  Siviglia,  II,  105,  571. 
Barbieri,  Niccolo,  92,  96. 
Baretti,  Giuseppe,  89,  277,  408,  415, 

416,  421-422,  464,  466,  483. 
Barilli,  Virginia,  8,  10. 
Baron,  544. 

Bartoli,  Saverio  Francesco,  166. 
Bartolini,    Orazio,    51,    53,    55,    58 

59- 

Baruffe  Chiozzotte,  Le  (The  Chiog- 
gian  Brawls),  described,  348- 
357;  228,  422,  457,  511,  512,  531, 
591. 

Bastille,  La,   588. 

Bavaria,    114. 

Beatrice,  266. 

Beatrice,  in  improvised  comedy, 
no;  in  The  Servant  of  Two 
Masters,  143 ;  in  The  Father  of 
a  Family,  288 ;  in  The  Fanatic 
Poet,  302;  in  The  Housekeeper, 
307 ;  in  The  Punctilious  Ladies, 

553-554,  556-559- 
Beaumarchais,    105,    109,    364,   481, 

519,  528,   571. 
Bejart,  Armande,  544. 
Bejart,  Madeleine,  544. 
Belgrano,  L.  T.,  169. 
Belisarius,   described,    135;    55,    58, 

59,  61,  62-64,  65,  136. 
Bella    pellegrina,    La     (The    Fair 

Pilgrim},   396. 
Bella    selvaggia,    La     (The    Fair 

Savage}, 359,  441. 
Bella  verita,  La,  466. 
Belpoggio,  Count  of,  in   The  Ball, 

455-456. 

Beltramo,  name  of  Brighella,  105. 
Bembo,  Cardinal,  407. 
Benedick,  206. 
Beneficent   Bear,    The,   see   Bourru 

bienfaisant,  Le. 

Bennett,  James  O'Donnell,  285-287. 
Beolco,  Angelo,  99,  no,  in,  172. 
Beppo,  in  The  Chioggian  Brawls, 

350-351,  356. 
Beregan,  Nicolo,  402. 


Bergamask,  The,  see  also  Brighella, 

106,  in. 

Bergama,  G  in,  50-51. 
Berio,  Francesco  Maria,  77. 
Bertoldo,  Bertoldino,  e  Cacasenno, 

238- 
Bertrame,    in    improvised    comedy, 

109. 
Bettina,     in     improvised     comedy, 

119;  in  The  Clever  Woman,  146; 

in  The  Respectable  Girl,  302;  in 

The  Good  Wife,  320,  376. 
Bettinelli,  191,  211,  212,  213. 
Bianchetti,  Countess,  479. 
Bibbieno,   87. 
Bievre,  Marquis  de,   571. 
Biondi,   Margherita,   55-57,   59,   61, 

62. 

Birba,  La,  64,  65. 
Birotteau,   Cesar,   144. 
Bisognosi,  name  of  Pantalone,  103 ; 

in     The    Man     of    the     World, 

139. 

Black,  John,  576. 

Blue  Bird,  The,  417,  421. 

Bobadil,   Captain,   114. 

Boccage,  Madame  du,  218,  478-479. 

Boerhaave,  Herman,  448,  449. 

Boerio,  104. 

Boissy,  Louis  de,  362. 

Bologna,  G  in,  77,  201-203,  2J6; 
Martelli  in,  431;  G  visits,  406. 

Bolognese,   Simone,    115. 

Bonaldi,  Angela,   78,   80. 

Bonicelli,  Antonio,  13. 

Bonfil,  Lord,  in  Pamela  Unmar- 
ried, 367-372,  376. 

Boors,  The,  see  Rusteghi,  I. 

Borghi,  Carlo,  n,  13,  98-99,  170. 

Borromeo,  Federigo,   539. 

Bottega  del  caffe,  La  (The  Coffee- 
House),  described,  277-288;  195, 
197,  285-287,  381. 

Bourgeois  gentilhomme,  Le  (The 
Burgher  a  Gentleman],  551-552. 

Bourru  bienfaisant,  Le  (The  Be- 
neficent Bear},  described,  518- 
529;  123,  340,  479,  495,  536,  582, 
584- 

Bramante,  99. 

Brescia,  G  in,  50;  G  robbed  on 
way  to,  60;  meets  Scacciati  at, 
61 ;  Chiari  retires  to,  464. 

Bresciani,  Caterina,  209,  452. 


674 


INDEX 


Brighella,  in  the  improvised  com- 
edy, 105-107;  102,  103,  no,  115, 
119,  126,  141,  415;  in  The  Obe- 
dient Daughter,  289-290;  509;  in 
The  Inquisitive  Women,  295; 
in  The  Antiquarian's  Family, 
299;  in  The  Respectable  Girl, 
319;  in  The  Swindler,  383-384; 
in  The  Military  Lover,  385. 

Brizard,   527. 

Brognoligo,   190. 

Brontolon,  Sior  Todero  (Master 
Theodore  the  Grumbler),  340- 

34i- 

Browning,  Robert,  378. 
Bruno,  87. 

Brusso,  Madame  de  la,  489. 
Bucco,  113. 

Buffoons,  Italian,  see  Gelosi. 
Bugiardo,  II  (The  Liar),  described, 

291-292;    195. 
Buona    famiglia,    La    (The    Good 

Family),  305. 

Buona  figliuola,  La,  218,  448. 
Buona     madre,     La      (The     Good 

Mother),  325. 
Buona     moglie,     La     (The     Good 

Wife),  described,   320;    188,  288, 

347,  376,  509- 
Buon  padre,  II,  38. 
Buon  vecchio,  II,  see  Buon  padre, 

II. 

Buranello,  222. 
Burattino,     name    for    Arlecchino, 

105,   108. 
Burchiello     di    Padova,    II     (The 

Padua  Packet),  428. 
Burgher    a    Gentleman,    The,    see 

Bourgeois  gentilhomme,  Le. 
Burlador  de  Sevilla,  El  (The  Scof- 
fer of  Seville),  92,  547. 
Buttercup,  314. 


Caccia,  583. 

Caffariello,  51,  52. 

Gaffe,  II,  402,  586. 

Cainello,  Menego,  in  The  Respect- 
able Girl,  313. 

Calderon,  378,  439,  452. 

Callot,  97. 

Cameriera  brillante,  La  (The 
Clever  Lady' s-M aid),  306. 


Camilla,  in  The  Good  Genius  and 
the  Bad  Genius,  517. 

Camilla's  Tribulations,  see  Inqui- 
etudini  di  Camilla,  Le. 

Campiello,  II  (The  Public  Square), 
457,  461-463. 

Campardon,  E.,  478. 

Canciano,  in  The  Boors,  326,  331, 
332-338. 

Candeille,  Mile.,  268. 

Candini,   17,   132. 

Cantatrice,  La  (The  Singer),  38, 
62. 

Capitano,  II,  in  improvised  com- 
edy, 108,  119. 

Cappini,  Marta,   10,  n,   12. 

Capranica  theatre,  223. 

Capricious  Woman,  The,  see  Don- 
na stravagante,  La. 

Caprin,   Giulio,   112,   149,   396,  410, 

474,.  475,  497: 
Captain  Bobadil,   114. 
Bertinazzi,    Carlo    (Carlino),    501, 

506,  529. 

Carceri,   Pulcinella   dalle,   108. 
Cardinal,  Monsieur,  290. 
Carducci,  Giosue,  432. 
Cario,  Alfesibeo,   156. 
Carino,  in  Don  Giovanni  Tenoric, 

547- 

Carlino,  see  Bertinazzi,   Carlo. 
Carli-Rubbi,    Gian   Rinaldo,   203. 
Carlos,  Don,  56,  57. 
Carmosina,    name    of    Colombina, 

109. 

Carrara,  G  in,  55,  57,  58. 
Casali,  Gaetano,  54,  62. 
Casal  Pusterlengo,  G  in,  60. 
Casanova   de   Seingalt,  J.,   62,  203, 

405,  536. 
Casanova,    Maria    Giovanna    (Za- 

netta),   62. 
Casa  nova,  La   (The  New  House), 

described,  341-348;  228,  240,  458, 

529. 

Casati,   Marquis,  467. 
Cassandro,  name  of  Pantalone,  103. 
Castalda,  La    (The  Housekeeper), 

described,   306-307;   200. 
Castell'  a  Mare,  553-560. 
Castelvetro,  84. 
Gate,     in     Women's     Tittle -Tattle, 

322-324;    in    The  Public  Square, 

462. 


INDEX 


675 


Cattolica,  79. 

Cavalier  del  Fiocco,  in  Tasso, 
438. 

Cavalier e  di  spirito,  II  (The  Wit- 
ty Cavalier],  240,  453. 

Cavliere  di  buoji  gusto,  II,  240. 

Cavalier  e  e  la  dama,  II  (The 
Cavalier  and  the  Lady),  de- 
scribed, 241-250;  188,  240,  273, 
302,  381-382. 

Cavalier  giocondo,  II,  453-454. 

Cecco,  in  The  Feudatory,  262- 
263. 

Cecilia,    in    The  New  House,    341, 

343,^  345-347- 

Celimene,  252. 

Cento  e  quattro  accident/  in  una 
notte  (A  Hundred  and  Four 
Mishaps  in  One  Night],  de- 
scribed, 142;  73,  161,  162. 

Cerlone,  Francesco,   108. 

Cesarotti,  422,  537,  590. 

Champmesle,  Madame,  474. 

Chantilly,  G  in,  528. 

Chapelle,   544. 

Charles  III  of  Spain,  56,  57. 

Chateaudor,  Comte  de,  in  The  Os- 
tentatious Miser,  530. 

Chaussee,  La,  362-65,  375,  376,  406, 
411. 

Checca,  in  The  New  House,  342- 
346 ;  in  The  Chioggian  Brawls, 

350-351,  357^ 

Chenier,  Andre-Marie,  de,   532. 

Chenier,  Marie-Joseph  de,  obtains 
pension  from  French  National 
Convention  for  G,  532-533,  586; 
obtains  annuity  for  G's  widow, 
586;  vouches  for  G's  republican- 
ism, 588. 

Cherea,  Francesco,  172. 

Chiari,  Pietro,  rival  to  G,  172; 
parodies  G's  work,  187,  391;  G 
attacks,  392-394;  writes  comedy, 
394;  achievements,  394-395;  char- 
acter, 395 ;  plagiarizes  G's  plays, 
395-396;  beaten  by  G  after 
rivalry,  397;  verses  on  rivalry 
with  G,  398-399;  visits  Modena, 
399;  G  characterizes,  401;  plays 
fail,  402;  allied  with  G  against 
Gozzi,  403 ;  Gozzi  describes 
rivalry,  405 ;  attacked  by  Gozzi, 
412;  editor  of  Gazzetta  Veneta, 


413;  seeks  reform  of  improvised 
comedy,  415;  Carducci  on,  432; 
retires  to  Brescia,  464;  intoler- 
ance, 579. 

Chicago,  The  University  of,  G's 
plays  at,  511. 

Chinese  Slave,  The,  see  Schiava 
Chinese,  La. 

Chioggia,  G  in,  17,  21,  24,  28,  34, 
35,  122,  132,  348. 

Chioggian  Brawls,  The,  see  Ba- 
ruffe  Chiozzotte,  Le. 

Chitta,     in     The    Feudatory,    262- 

263._ 

Christina  of  Sweden,  155. 

Cicisbeism,  237-264. 

Cicognini,     Giacinta     Andrea,     14, 

.133-  . 

Cicognini,  lacopo,  133,  547. 

Cid,  The,  291-292. 

Cimarosa,   137. 

Clairon,  Mile.,  474. 

Clarice,  in  The  Bankruptcy,  145; 
in  The  Love  of  the  Three  Or- 
anges, 417;  in  The  Punctilious 
Ladies,  554-555,  557- 

Claudia,  in  The  Cavalier  and  the 
Lady,  242,  245,  382. 

Claviere,  Etienne,   587. 

Clever  Lady's-Maid,  The,  see 
Cameriera  brill  ante,  La. 

Clever  Woman,  The,  see  Donna 
di  gar  bo,  La. 

Cloche,  Monsieur  la,  in  L'Ecos- 
saise,  382. 

Clotilde,  Princess,  495. 

Coccodrillo,  in  improvised  comedy, 
108. 

Cochin,  583. 

Cocu  imaginaire,  Le  (The  Imag- 
inary Cuckold,  471. 

Coffee-House,  The,  see  Bottega  del 
caffe,  La. 

Colardeau,  481. 

Coleman,  Mrs.,  99. 

Collalto,  II,  191,  200,  293,  501. 

Colle,  526,  528. 

Colorno,  217-218,  448. 

Collinetti,   Francesco,  73,   183. 

Colombina,  described,   109;   101. 

Colombani,  Paolo,  415. 

Colossus,  The,  27. 

Columbine,  see  also  Colombina, 
101,  109,  417. 


676 


INDEX 


Comedie  Franchise,  La,  102,  116, 
474,  499,  5i8,  528,  587- 

Comedians  du  roi  de  la  troupe 
franchise,  474. 

Comedie  Italienne,  La,  at  Hotel  de 
Bourgogne,  102;  banished  to 
Theatre  Favart,  102;  influence 
on  French  stage,  115-116;  G's 
work  for,  470-482;  history  of, 
499-501 ;  invites  G  to  Paris,  501 ; 
company  described,  501 ;  unites 
with  Opera  Comique,  502;  con- 
dition of,  502;  G  describes  state 
of,  504. 

Comediens  du  roi  de  la  troupe 
italienne,  Les,  228,  423,  500. 

Comedy,   Lachrymose,   362-364. 

Comic  Theatre,  The,  see  Teatro 
comico,  II. 

Comic  Theatre  at  the  Pilgrim's 
Inn,  The,  see  Teatro  comico  all' 
Osteria  de  Pellegrino. 

Commedia  a  soggett^,  a  maschera, 
dell'arte,  improvvisa,  see  Impro- 
vised Comedy. 

Commedia  erudita,  see  Erudite 
Comedy. 

Compiegne,  G  in,  488. 

Conde,  Prince  de,  acts  in  The  Be- 
neficent Bear,  528. 

Condulmer,  Antonio,  392. 

Connio,  Agostino,  G's  father-in- 
law,  70-71 ;  G  dedicates  play  to, 
169. 

Connio  Angela  Benedetta,  G's 
mother-in-law,  70. 

Connio,  Maria  Nicoletta,  see  Gol- 
doni,  Maria  Nicoletta. 

Contarini,  Pietro,  410. 

Contessina,  La  (The  Young  Count- 
ess), 137-138. 

Contrat  social,  373,  578. 

Contriving  Woman,  The,  see  Don- 
na di  maneggio,  La. 

Convitato  di  pietra,  II  (The  Guest 
of  Stone},  92. 

Corago,  94. 

Corallina,  a  name  of  Colombina, 
109;  in  The  Inquisitive  Woman, 
295;  in  The  Devoted  Servant, 
306,  458  ;  in  The  Housekeeper,  307. 

Corallina,  La,  see  Marliani,  Mad- 
dalena. 

Coriolan,  570. 


Corneille,  Pierre,  G's  //  Bugiardo 
founded  on  Le  Menteur  of,  291 ; 
Zeno  likened  to,  136;  national- 
izes classical  ideal,  153. 

Cornet,  Gabriel,  465,  470,  471,  485, 
488,  490,  495,  566. 

Cornet,  Jean,  465. 

Corsini,  Pope,  296. 

Cortezan  venezian,  II,  139. 

Corvo,  II,  421. 

Coryat,  Thomas,  99. 

Cosson,  584. 

Costantini,  author  of  Critical  Let- 
ters, 394. 

Costantini,  Senator,  589. 

Costantini,  Angelo,  499. 

Costanza,  in  A  Curious  Mishap, 
377-. 

Cotterie,  Lieutenant  de  la,  in  A 
Curious  Mishap,  376-377. 

Contrattempo,  II  (The  Misadven- 
ture], 293-294. 

Coubrech,  in  Pamela  Unmarried, 
371- 

Courant,  The  Hartford  (Connecti- 
cut),^^. 

Courbois,  Marquis  de,  in  The  Os- 
tentatious Miser,  530. 

Coviello,   108,  109,  178. 

Crebillon,  476. 

Crema,  G  in,  57-59. 

Crescimbeni,   156-157,   158. 

Creusa,  in    Terence,  434. 

Cristofolo,  in  The  New  House,  346- 
347- 

Critique  de  I'ecole  des  femmes,  La 
(The  Criticism  of  The  School  for 
Wives],  455,  541,  543. 

Cuisinieres,  Les,  457. 

Cunliffe,  Doctor  J.  W.,  115. 

Curioso  accidente,  Un  (A  Curious 
Mishap],  described,  376-378; 
449,  477,  562. 

Curious  Mishap,  A,  see  Curioso 
accidente,  Un. 


Dalancour,  in  The  Beneficent  Bear, 
520-521. 

Dalancour,  Madame,  in  The  Be- 
neficent Bear,  521. 

Dalmatina,  La  (The  Little  Dal- 
matian], 441. 


INDEX 


677 


Dama  prudente,  La   (The  Discreet 
Wife],    described,    250-252;    197, 
240. 
Damon,  in  Terence,  434. 

Dancing  School,  The,  see  Scuola 
di  ballo,  La. 

D'Arbes,  see  Arbes,  D'. 

Dauberval,  526. 

Dauphin,  The,  see  also  Louis  XVI, 
485,  489,  490,  491,  495. 

Dauphiness,  The  483,  489,  490. 

Dauvre,  Lady,  in  Pamela  Unmar- 
ried, 367-368. 

Deffand,  Madame  du,  479,  567. 

Defoe,   361. 

Dejob,  Charles,  256,  507,  510. 

Democritus,  435. 

Denis,  Madame,  567. 

Desboulmiers,   149,  473-474. 

Desenzano,  G  in,  50. 

Devoted  Servant,  The,  see  Serva 
amorosa,  La. 

Diamantina,  name  of  Colombina, 
109. 

Diana,  in  the  Bourgeois  comedies, 
276. 

Diderot,  G  and  the  Paris  of,  122; 
G's  lachrymose  comedies  smack 
of,  305 ;  Marivaux  compared 
with,  365;  serious  and  moral 
drama  of,  376;  Houssaye  char- 
acterizes, 475;  dismisses  G's 
work  contemptuously,  475 ;  recon- 
ciled to  G,  476. 

Diogenes,  43  5.^ 

Dionysiac  festivals,  83. 

Discontented,  The,  see  Malcon- 
tenti,  I. 

Discreet  Wife,  The,  see  Dama  pru- 
dente, La. 

Disguised,  The,  see  Suppositi,  I. 

Domestic  Bickerings,  see  Puntigli 
domes tici,  I. 

Dominicaux,  Les,  476-477,  481. 

Don  Giovanni,  92. 

Don  Giovanni  Tenorio,  69,  120, 
138,  148,  546-548- 

Don  Juan,  Moliere's  play,  546-548. 

Don  Juan  Tenorio,  see  Don  Gio- 
vanni Tenorio. 

Donna  bizzarra,  La,  453. 

Donna  di  garbo,  La    (The  Clever 
Woman],      described,      146-148 
149,  168,  183,  303,  312,  395. 


Donna  di  garbo,  La,  play  by 
Chiari,  395. 

Donna  di  governo,  La  (The  Up- 
per Servant],  451,  458. 

Donna  di  maneggio,  La  (The  Con- 
triving Woman),  253,  550. 

Donna  di  testa  debole,  La  (The 
Rattlepate),  261-262. 

Donna  forte,  La  (The  Intrepid 
Woman),  450-451. 

Donna  serpente  La,  421. 

Donna  sola,  La  (The  Lone  Wom- 
an), 451. 

Donna  stravagante,  La  (The  Ca- 
pricious Woman),  452. 

Donna  vendicativa,  La,  described, 
293;  186,  208. 

Donna  volubile,  La  (The  Fickle 
Woman),  described,  293;  197. 

Donnay,  Maurice,  253,  305. 

Donne  curiose,  Le  (The  Inquisi- 
tive Women),  described,  294-298; 
200,  477. 

Donne  di  casa  soa,  Le  ( The  House- 
wives), 457,  459. 

Donne  gelose,  Le  (The  Jealous 
Women),  described,  324-325; 
200,  201. 

Doralice,  in  The  Antiquarian's 
Family,  300;  in  The  Ball,  455; 
in  Marriage  by  Competition,  514. 

Dorval,  in  The  Beneficent  Bear, 
521. 

Dossennus,  113. 

Doti,  defined,  93. 

Dottore,  II,  in  improvised  comedy, 
defined,  104-105;  103,  no,  119, 
126,  141,  143,  178,  233. 

Drama,   Elizabethan,   98,    100,    101. 

Drama,  Greek,  83,  84,  101. 

Drama,  Religious,  85,  89,  98,  99, 
100,  113. 

Drama,  Spanish,  100. 

Dresden,  196. 

Dromio,  184. 

Due  gemelli  veneziani,  I  (The 
Venetian  Twins),  149,  391. 

Due  pantaloni,  I,  see  also  Mer- 
canti,  I,  293. 

Dufresny,  Charles  Riviere,  451. 

Duni,  Egidio  Domualdo,  448-449, 
475- 

Durazzo,  Count  Giacomo,  G 
writes,  484. 


678 


INDEX 


Duse,  Eleonora,  268. 
Dutch    Doctor,    The,    see    Medico 
olandese,  II. 


Ecole  des  meres,  L'  (The  School 
for  Mothers],  364. 

Ecossaise,  L'  (The  Scotch  Girl), 
379-382,  396,  406. 

Egidio,  in  War,  386-388. 

Elegant  Anthony,  see  Tonin  bella 
grazia. 

Eleonora,  in  The  Man  of  the 
World,  140;  in  The  Cavalier  and 
the  Lady,  241,  245;  in  Tasso, 
437-438;  in  The  Punctilious  La- 
dies, 554-558. 

Elisa,  65. 

Elisa,    in    Don    Giovanni    Tenorio, 

547- 

Elizabeth,  Princess,  496. 
Elizabethan     drama,     see     Drama, 

Elizabethan. 
England,    Italian    mask    actors    in, 

ii^-ilS- 
English   Philosopher,   The,  see  Fi- 

losofo  inglese,  II. 
Enrico  re  di  Sicilia,  73. 
Epicurus,  590. 
Epinay,  Madame  d',  526. 
Eraclio,  in  The  Impostor,  262. 
Ercole  I,  Duke  of  Ferrara,  theatre 

of,  99. 
Erede    fortunata,    L'    (The    Lucky 

Heiress},   188,  303. 
Erimanteo,  Opico,  156. 
Ernold,   Chevalier,  in  Pamela   Un- 
married, 368-372,   376. 
Erudite  comedy,   defined,   87-88. 
Escarabombardon,     in     improvised 

comedy,   109. 
Esperonniere,  U,  99. 
Esprit  de  contradiction,  L',  451. 
Este,  Eleonora  d',  439. 
Eufemia,  in  the  bourgeois  comedies, 

276,  in  The  Housekeeper,  307. 
Eugenic,  in  the  bourgeois  comedies, 

276. 
Eulario,  in  The  Discreet  Wife,  250- 

251  in  The  House  Party,  257. 
Eurilla,  467. 
Euripides,  421. 


Fabrice,  in  L'Ecossaise,  379-380, 
381. 

Fabula  palliata,  112. 

Fabula  togata,  112. 

Faenze,  G  in,  39. 

Fairet,  Marie,  99. 

Fair  Pilgrim,  The,  see  Bella  pelle- 
grina,  La. 

Fair  Savage,  The,  see  Bella  sel- 
vaggia,  La. 

Falchi,  Luigi,  375,  581. 

Famiglia  dell'  antiquario,  La 
(The  Antiquarian's  Family},  de- 
scribed, 299-300;  1 88,  240,  347, 

539- 

Fan,  The,  see  Fentaglio,  II. 
Fanatic  Poet,   The,  see  Poeta  Fa- 

natico,  II. 

Fanti,  Francesco,  400. 
Farnese,  Elizabeth,  56-57. 
Farsetti,  Daniele,  408. 
Fata  Morgana,  in  The  Love  of  the 

Three  Oranges,  418. 
Father,  a  Rival  of  His  Son,  The, 

see  Padre  rivale  del  suo  figlio. 
Father     of    a     Family,     The,     see 

Padre   di   famiglia,   II,   see    also 

Pere  de  famille,  Le. 
Father    through    Love,     The,    see 

Padre  per  amore,  II. 
Fatima,  in  The  Persian  Bride,  442. 
Fausse  antipathie,  La,  365. 
Fausse  coquette,  La,  571. 
Faustino,  in  War,  386-387. 
Fayette,  Madame  de  la,  361. 
Feen,  Die,  421. 
Favart,  G's  crony,  464;  praises  G, 

473;     in     the     pique-nique,     481; 

tells    story   of   G,  484;    G's   true 

friend,  583;  dies,  584. 
Fegeio,  Polisseno,  163. 
Feigned    Invalid,    The,    see    Finta 

ammalata,  La. 

Felice,  in  The  Boors,  331,  337. 
Feltre,  G  in,  35-38,  62-63. 
Femmine     puntigliose,     Le      (The 

Punctilious     Ladies),     described, 

551-560;    195,   197,  240,  252,   542. 
Ferdinando,     in    the    villeggiatura 

trilogy,  259,  261. 
Fernando,  in  The  Intrepid  Woman, 

451. 


INDEX 


679 


Ferney,  The  Sage  of,  see  Voltaire. 

Ferramonti,  Antonia,  66. 

Ferrara,  99,  216,  437'44O. 

Festino,  II  (The  Ball],  described, 
454-456;  215,  218,  240,  539,  541. 

Feudatory,  The,  see  F eudatario ,  II. 

Feuilli,  527-528. 

Fiabe  teatrali,  89,  92,  418. 

Fickle  Woman,  The,  see  Donna 
volubile,  La. 

Fiera,  La,  217. 

Figaro,  106,  519. 

Flglia  obbediente,  La  (The  Obedi- 
ent Daughter],  289-290,  509. 

Figlio  d'Arlecchino  perduto  e  ri- 
trovato,  II  (Harlequin's  Son  Lost 
and  Found],  described,  149; 
written  at  Pisa,  163;  performed 
at  Fontainebleau,  471;  at  La 
Comedie  italienne,  501. 

Filiberto,  in  A  Curious  Mishap, 
377- 

Filipeto,  in  The  Boors,  331,  337. 

Filippo,  in  Marriage  by  Competi- 
tion, 513-514. 

Filosofo  inglese,  II  (The  English 
Philosopher] ,  described,  443-446; 
.375*  396. 

Filosofo  veneziano,  II  (The  Vene- 
tian Philosopher],  396. 

Fils  nature!,  Le  (The  Natural 
Son],  475. 

Finta  ammalata,  La  (The  Feigned 
Invalid],  550. 

Finzi,   Giuseppe,  154. 

Fiorelli,  Tiberio  (Scaramouche), 
108,  117,  499. 

Fitch,  Clyde,   190. 

Flaminia,  in  the  improvised  com- 
edy, no,  119. 

Flamminio,  in  The  Cavalier  and 
the  Lady,  242,  246,  273 ;  in  The 
Inquisitive  Women,  297. 

Flatterer,    The,   see   Adulatore,  L'. 

Flatteur,  Le,  252. 

Floncel,   Jeanne  Franchise,  480. 

Florence,  Imer's  troupe  in,  71 ;  G 
in,  159,  197;  G  publishes  at,  212. 

Florida,  in  The  House  Party,  256; 
in  War,  386-388. 

Florindo,  Venetian  actor  at  Rimini, 
17;  G  runs  away  to  Chioggia 
with,  18-19;  at  Feltre,  36;  gives 
G  first  practical  stage  knowl- 
edge, 132. 


Florindo,  lover  in  improvised  com- 
edy, no;  in  The  Servant  of  Two 
Masters,  143 ;  in  The  Clever 
Woman,  146,  147;  in  The  Vene- 
tian Advocate,  303-304;  in  The 
Housekeeper,  307;  in  The  Punc- 
tilious Ladies,  554,  557. 

Folle  journee,  La  (The  Wanton 
Day],  571. 

Fond  Mother,  The,  see  Madre 
amorosa,  La. 

Fondazione  di  Venezia,  La  (The 
Foundation  of  Venice],  65. 

Fontainebleau,  471,  528,  529. 

Fontene,  in  Marriage  by  Competi- 
tion, 515. 

Forlipopoli,  Marchese  di,  in  The 
Mistress  of  the  Inn,  265,  267, 
278,  5",  53?. 

Forma  splendida,   153. 

Formica,  109. 

Fortunate  (Toni),  in  The  Chiog- 
gian  Br avals,  350-351,  356. 

Foscolo,  Ugo,  230,  232. 

Foundation  of  Venice,  The,  see 
Fondazione  di  Venezia,  La. 

Fracasse,  Capitaine,  see  also  Fra- 
casso,  101. 

Fracasso,  described,  108;  101,  109, 
114,  178,  395. 

Fragiotto,  in  The  Housekeeper, 
307- 

France,  Italian  mask  actors  in,  114, 
115;  G  in,  124;  G  enters  to  re- 
main in,  468. 

Francesco  II,  Duke  of  Modena,  9. 

Franklin,  Benjamin,  567. 

Freeport,  in  L'Ecossaise,  379. 

Frelon,  in  L'Ecossaise,  379-381,  382. 

Freron,  381^475,  57*.    " 

Fritellino,  in  improvised  comedy, 
109. 

Frontino,  a  name  of  Brighella,  105. 

Frugoni,  157,  466. 

Frusta  Letteraria,  89,  422. 

Fuller,  Henry  B.,  translates  The 
Coffee-House,  285;  The  Fan,  511. 

Fusina,  171. 


Gabriele,  Panzanini,  115. 
Gabrielli,  Francesco,  499. 
Gabrielli,  Luisa,  499. 
Galanti,  Ferdinando,   320,   375. 


68o 


INDEX 


Galilei,  Galileo,  153. 

Galuppi,  137. 

Gandini,  La,  209. 

Gandini,  Pietro,  209-210. 

Garde,  De  la,  476,  477. 

Garelli,  165. 

Garrick,  David,  422. 

Garzia,    in    The    Military    Lover, 

384-385. 

Garzoni,  Tommaso,  96,  97,  103. 
Gasparina,  in   The  Public  Square, 

463- 

Gazzetta  Veneta,  390,  408,  413,  414. 

Gelosi,  102,  115,  116,  499. 

Gelosia  di  Arlecchino,  La  (Harle- 
quin's Jealousy),  480,  505. 

Geloso  avaro,  II  (The  Jealous 
Miser),  described,  252;  207,  240. 

Generosita  politica,  La,  137. 

Genio  buono  e  il  genio  cattivo,  II 
(The  Good  Genius  and  the  Bad 
Genius),  517-518. 

Genlis,  Madame  de,  564. 

Genoa,  G  in,  69-70;  marries  there, 
71 ;  appointed  consul  of,  in 
Venice,  73;  said  to  have  visited, 
169;  embarks  for  France  from, 
467. 

Geronte,  a  derivative  of  Pantolone, 
103 ;  in  The  Beneficent  Bear,  340, 
347,  519-525;  modelled  on  Ber- 
tinazzi,  529. 

Ghelthof,  G.  M.  Urban!  de,  191. 

Gherardo,  in  Tasso,  437. 

Ghislieri  College,  G  in,  22-24. 

Ghost  Story,  The  (Mostellaria), 
absorbed  by  improvised  comedy, 
91. 

Giacinta,  in  the  improvised  com- 
edy, no;  in  the  villeggiatura 
trilogy,  260. 

Giacinto,       in       The      Merchants, 

293- 
Giannma,  in  The  Merchants,  292; 

in  A  Curious  Mishap,  377. 
Gilbert,  William  Schwenck,   314. 
Giovagnoli,  Raffaello,  589. 
Geraldi,   84. 
Girls  of  the  Castle  Quarter,  The, 

see  Putte  di  castello,  Le. 
Giulia,  in  The  Contriving  Woman, 

253- 

Giuocatore,  II,  197. 
Gnese,  in   The  Public  Square,  463. 
Goethe,  348-350,  35^,  358,  440. 


Goldoni  Alberto,  G's  great-grand- 
uncle,  8. 

Goldoni,  Antonia,  G's  great-grand- 
aunt,  8. 

Goldoni,  Antonio  Francesco,  G's 
nephew,  adopted,  213;  goes  to 
Paris  with  G,  406;  G  uses  in- 
fluence for,  490;  Madame  Ade- 
laide obtains  places  for,  493 ; 
witnesses  G's  death  certificate, 
586.  ^ 

Goldoni,  Carlo,  statue  in  Venice, 
3,  7;  born,  3,  8;  ancestry,  8-15; 
removes  to  Perugia,  13,  15; 
shows  love  for  stage,  16;  school 
at  Rimini,  17;  sees  strolling 
players,  17,  45;  runs  away  from 
school  with  players,  17,  18,  44; 
describes  flight,  18-19;  soubrettes, 
19;  in  mischief,  20-21,  studies 
law  in  Venice,  21 ;  in  Pavia,  21, 
22;  in  Milan,  22;  attends  law 
lectures,  22;  discovers  lack  of 
national  drama,  23 ;  vows  to 
supply  deficiency,  23 ;  receives 
tonsure  and  enters  Ghislieri  Col- 
lege, 23 ;  learns  French  to  study 
Moliere,  24;  escapade  at  Mo- 
dena,  25;  at  Piacenza,  25;  in 
scrape  at  Pavia,  26-27;  com- 
poses a  satire  and  is  expelled 
from  college,  27,  44;  law  lec- 
tures at  Udine,  29;  publishes 
sonnets,  29 ;  another  scrape,  30- 
31;  flees  to  father,  31;  life 
abroad,  31;  presents  Martelli's 
plays,  31;  sent  to  University  of 
Modena,  32;  intends  to  enter 
monastery,  34;  Venetian  the- 
atres change  his  intention,  34; 
assistant  to  coadjutor  at  Chiog- 
gia,  34;  assistant  to  chancellor 
at  Feltre,  35;  falls  in  love,  36- 
37;  produces  Metastasio's  op- 
eras, 37-38;  composes  plays,  38; 
Angelica,  38;  father  dies,  39; 
studies  law  at  Pavia,  40;  ad- 
mitted to  Venetian  bar,  42; 
practises  law,  42-45 ;  writes 
Amalasontha,  46;  love  affair,  47- 
49;  travels,  49-52;  attached  to 
embassy  at  Milan,  54-58;  has 
play  produced,  54;  La  Biondi, 
55-62;  sees  war,  58,  62;  play 
accepted  by  Imer,  61-63 ;  writes 


INDEX 


68 1 


operas  and  plays,  64-65 ;  La  Fer- 
ramonti,  66;  La  Passalacqua,  67; 
married  in  Genoa,  69-71 ;  consul 
of  Genoa  at  Venice,  73 ;  travels, 
77-79;  La  Bonaldi,  78,  80;  di- 
rector of  opera  at  Rimini,  81; 
in  Tuscany,  81 ;  national  com- 
edy and  improvised  comedy,  87- 
120;  compared  with  Moliere, 
120;  work  and  achievement,  120- 
127;  poor  critic  of  self,  127;  his 
purpose,  127-128;  a  commercial 
dramatist,  130;  stage-craft  and 
dramatic  education,  131-133;  re- 
form of  Italian  stage,  133-134; 
begins  true  career,  138;  debt  to 
Venice,  139-142;  influence  of  im- 
provised comedy,  142-143;  mod- 
ernity of  theory,  143-144;  retro- 
gression, 146-148 ;  beginnings  of 
national  comedy,  149-150;  pio- 
neer of  the  Risorgimento,  151; 
in  L'Arcadia,  159-160,  164;  prac- 
tises law  at  Pisa,  161-164;  meets 
D'Arbes,  164;  Medebac,  167; 
dramatist  for  Medebac,  168;  at 
Florence,  i6q;  at  Mantua  and 
Modena,  170;  in  Venice  again, 
171 ;  dramatist  of  Sant'  Angelo 
theatre,  181-201 ;  signs  new  con- 
tract, 185,  rivals,  187;  second 
season,  187-189;  third  season, 
189-197;  begins  reform  of  im- 
provised comedy,  197 ;  nervous 
prostration,  198;  at  Turin,  199; 
at  Genoa,  199;  La  Corallina, 
200-201;  at  Bologna,  201-203; 
signs  contract  with  Vendramins, 
206 ;  at  San  Luca  theatre,  206- 
229;  trouble  with  La  Corallina, 
207;  with  La  Gandini,  209-210; 
Modena,  214;  court  poet  of 
Parma,  217;  sees  French  actors, 
217-218;  meets  Madame  du  Boc- 
cage,  218;  visits  Rome,  219-223; 
at  Bologna,  225 ;  subscription 
edition  of  plays,  228 ;  invited  to 
Paris,  228 ;  summary  of  writings, 
229;  attitude  toward  Venice, 
232;  aristocratic  comedies,  233- 
268 ;  attitude  toward  life,  270- 
271 ;  his  bourgeois  comedies, 
273-3o9 >  Venetian  comedies,  311- 
387;  exotic  comedies,  359-382; 
lawyers  in  plays,  302-305 ;  radi- 


cal sentiments,  372-374;  comedies 
of  army  life,  382-388;  rivals  and 
critics,  389;  magnanimity,  389- 
390;  Gozzi,  389-391;  Gori,  391; 
Chiari,  393-403 ;  defenders,  401- 
402;  Gozzi's  successful  attacks, 
403 ;  the  Granelleschi,  407-408 ; 
The  Tartan,  409-411;  false 
charges,  412 ;  Voltaire's  defense, 
414;  Baretti,  415-422;  offered 
place  in  Paris,  423 ;  farewell  to 
Venice,  423-426 ;  his  poetry,  427 ; 
naturalism,  428 ;  comedies  in 
verse,  429;  classified,  430;  com- 
edies of  classic  poets,  430-431, 
433-440;  Martellian  verse,  431- 
433;  exotic  comedies  in  verse, 
450-456;  naturalistic  comedies  in 
verse,  456-463 ;  invited  to  Paris, 
464;  terms  of  engagement,  465; 
prepares  for  exile,  465;  leaves 
Venice,  465;  Albergati  and  Bo- 
logna, 466 ;  pension  renewed  at 
Parma,  466;  journey  to  Paris, 
467-468;  arrives  in  Paris,  468; 
description  of  city,  470-471 ; 
takes  furlough,  471 ;  first  play 
fails,  472;  achieves  a  success, 
473 ;  returns  to  improvised  com- 
edy, 474;  Diderot,  475-476;  Les 
Dominicaux,  476;  Favart,  476; 
opinion  of  French  opera,  477; 
La  Veronese,  478;  Lefebvre,  478; 
Madame  du  Boccage,  478-479 ; 
writes  plays  for  Venice,  480;  the 
pique-nique,  481 ;  ends  engage- 
ment with  Comedie  Italienne, 
487;  invitations  from  Venice  and 
abroad,  483 ;  tutor  to  royalty, 
483-486;  partial  blindness,  486- 
487;  courtiership,  490,  494;  loses 
tutorship,  491 ;  leaves  Versailles, 
491;  impecunious,  491;  assured 
of  protection,  491;  presents  and 
pension,  492;  flatters  royalty, 
494;  play  for  royal  nuptials, 
495;  royal  gratuity,  496-4975 
pension,  497;  life  in  Paris,  497; 
achievements,  498 ;  leisure  at 
last,  498;  La  Comedie  Italienne, 
and  reform,  502-503 ;  clean- 
mindedness,  509-510;  dramatic 
abilities,  516-517;  follows  Gozzi, 
517-518;  on  La  Comedie  Fran- 
gaise,  518-526;  first  performance 


68z 


INDEX 


of  The  Bear,  526-527;  last  play 
fails,  529-531;  work  done,  531; 
dies,  532;  Chenier  obtains  pen- 
sion for,  532-533;  republicanism, 
533 ;  Voltaire  on,  533-538;  com- 
pares himself  unfavorably  with 
Moliere,  538-539;  comparison 
with  Moliere,  540-560;  his  last 
plays,  561-562;  Rousseau,  563- 
565;  visits  Voltaire,  566-569; 
niece  marries,  570;  estimate  of 
Beaumarchais,  571-572;  joy  in 
art,  573;  private  life,  573;576; 
the  Memoirs,  576-578 ;  political 
faith,  578-579;  on  America,  579; 
religion,  579-580;  moderation, 
581;  translates,  582-583;  poor 
and  in  ill  health,  585;  death, 
586;  radicalism,  589;  tablet  to 
memory,  589;  summary,  589-594. 

Goldoni,  Carlo  Alessandro,  G's 
grandfather,  8;  removes  to  Ven- 
ice and  marries,  9;  marries 
again,  10;  G  characterizes,  n; 
dies,  11-12;  family  fortune  re- 
duced, 12. 

Goldoni,  Gian  Paolo  (Giampaolo), 
G's  brother,  13;  soldier,  34; 
brings  cheat  to  G,  76 ;  comes  to 
G  with  children,  213;  G  settles 
debts  of,  226 ;  G  gives  property 
to,  465 ;  demise,  570. 

Goldoni,  Doctor  Giulio,  G's  father, 
9;  spoils  son,  12;  studies  medi- 
cine in  Rome,  13;  in  Perugia, 
13;  encourages  G's  love  for 
stage,  16;  in  Rimini  and  Mo- 
dena,  17;  in  Chioggia,  20;  in 
Pavia  and  Milan,  22;  abroad, 
31;  in  Venice,  34;  illness  and 
death,  39. 

Goldoni,  Luigi,  G's  great-grand- 
uncle,  8. 

Goldoni,  Margherita  Salvioni,  G's 
mother,  14;  G  characterizes,  14; 
in  Perugia,  16;  in  Chioggia,  34; 
urges  G  to  the  law,  39;  pays 
G's  debts,  49 ;  in  Modena,  59, 
63;  returns  to  Venice,  66;  meets 
G's  bride,  72;  welcomes  Giam- 
paolo's  children,  213;  dies,  214. 

Goldoni,  Maria  Nicoletta  Connio, 
G  meets  at  Genoa,  69-70;  par- 
entage, 70;  G  marries,  71;  G 
characterizes,  72-73,  75-76;  at 


Bologna,  77,  Cattolica,  Pesaro, 
and  Rimini,  79;  La  Rinaldi,  80; 
in  Genoa,  168;  in  Venice,  171; 
in  Genoa  again,  199;  adopts 
grandchildren,  213;  at  Rome, 
219;  leaves  Venice,  465;  visits 
Genoa  and  embarks  for  France, 
467;  little  amused  in  Paris,  481; 
meets  royalty,  488;  gratified 
thereby,  495;  illness,  574;  part 
in  G's  life,  receives  annuity,  586, 
588;  benefit  for,  587. 

Goldoni,  Petronilla  Margherita, 
G's  niece  adopted  by  his  mother, 
213;  in  convent,  465;  marries, 
570;  G  provides  dowry  for,  570. 

Goldoni-Vidoni,  Marquis,  gives 
scholarship  at  Pavia  to  G,  20; 
patron  of  G's  family,  20;  enter- 
tains G  and  father  at  Milan, 
22;  takes  G  on  journey,  26;  ap- 
peals for  G,  27. 

La   Gondola    (The   Gondola] ,  428. 

Gondoliere  veneziano,  II  (The 
Venetian  Gondolier] ,  described, 
134-135;  .54.  63,  137. 

Good  Family,  The,  see  Buona  fa- 
miglia,  La. 

Good  Genius  and  the  Bad  Genius, 
The,  see  Genio  buono  e  il  genio 
catti'vo,  IL 

Good  Mother,  The,  see  Buona 
Madre,  La. 

Good  Wije,  The,  see  Buona  mog- 
lie,  La. 

Gorain,    Count    Giuseppe,    585-586. 

Gori,  plagiarizes  The  Singer,  62; 
attacks  G,  391. 

Gorz,  G  in,  31. 

Gouvernante,  La,  451. 

Gozzi,  Carlo,  Venetian  writer,  7; 
attacks  G,  89 ;  anticipated  by 
Scala,  92;  on  situations  in  im- 
provised comedy,  116;  G's  mag- 
nanimity to,  389;  leads  defend- 
ers of  improvised  comedy,  393- 
394;  characterized,  403;  an  im- 
placable enemy,  404;  quarrels, 
404;  his  Useless  Memoirs,  404- 
405;  Granellescans,  407-408; 
The  Tartan,  408-409;  G  attacks, 
409-410;  replies,  411;  false 
charges  against  G,  412;  Atti, 
415;  writes  successful  play,  417- 
420;  writes  nine  more,  421;  aids 


INDEX 


683 


in  bringing  about  G's  exile,  424- 
425;  G  imitates,  516-517;  at- 
tacks G's  liberalism,  581. 

Gozzi,  Gasparo,  criticizes  G's 
plays,  338-339,  3475  a  Granel- 
lescan,  402-403 ;  edits  Pasquali 
edition  of  G's  plays,  408,  465. 

Gradellino,  name  of  Brighella,  106. 

Gradenigo,    187. 

Gradenigo,  Andrea,  480. 

Gradenigo,    Vittore,   496. 

Gradisca,  G  in,  31. 

Graffigny,  Madame  de,  441,  452. 

Granellesca,  Accademia,  407-1^08. 

Gratarol,    Pier   Antonio,    404,    405. 

Gravina,    156. 

Gratz,  G  in,  31. 

Graziano,  Baloardo,  name  for  II 
D  otto  re,  104. 

Grazzini,   Anton   Francesco,   in. 

Greek   drama,   see   Drama,    Greek. 

Gretry,  448. 

Grimani,  62,  64,  65. 

Grimarest,  Sieur  de,  543. 

Grimm,  268,  473,  505,  506,  526. 

Griselda,  65,  136,  167,  183. 

Grisologo,  in  The  Discontented,  401. 

Gritti,   Giannantonio,  467. 

Grossatesta,  La,  51-52. 

Guarini,   136. 

Gubernatis,    Angelo    De,    194,   261. 

Guerra,  La  (War}^  described,  385- 
388 ;  G  obtains  impressions  for, 
58. 

Guerzoni,    Giuseppe,    240,    536-537. 

Guest  of  Stone,  The,  see  Convitato 
di  pietra,  II. 

Guldoni,  'former  spelling  of  Gol- 
doni,  8. 

Guldoni,  Francesco,  G's  descent 
derived  from,  8. 

Guldoni,  Francesco  Maria,  G's 
great-grandfather,  8. 

Gustavo  primo,  re  di  Svezia,  73, 
137,  138- 


H 


Hagn,  Carlotta,  268. 

Hague,  The,  450. 

Hamlet,   106,   192,  437,  541. 

Harassed  Man  of  Wealth,  The,  see 

Ricco  insidiato,  II. 
Hardy,  Alexandre,  427. 
Hardy,  Madame,  489. 


Harlequin,     see     also     Arlecchino, 

101,  417. 
Harlequin's   Jealousy,   see    Gelosia 

di  Arlecchino,  La. 
Harlequin's   Son   Lost   and   Found, 

see   Figlio    d'Arlecchino   perduto 

e  ritrovato,  II. 

Harlequin's     Thirty-Two     Misfor- 
tunes,   see    Trentadue    disgrazie 

d'Arlecchino,  Le. 
Harpagon,  520,  530,  549. 
Harpe,  La,  364,  570. 
Haydn,  137. 

Hazards  of  Country  Life,  see  Ad- 
venture  della   villeggiatura,  Le. 
Henrietta     of     Modena,     Princess, 

467. 

Henry  III  of  France,  499. 
Henslowe,   114. 
Heywood,   Thomas,    114. 
Hippocrasso,  name  for  II  Dottore, 

105. 
Hircana,  in  the  oriental  plays,  442- 

443- 
Hircana  at  Ispahan,  see  Ircana  in 

Ispaan. 
Hircana    at   Julfa,    see    Ircana    in 

Julfa. 
Honest  Adventurer,   The,  see  A<v- 

venturiere  onorato,  U. 
Horace,  84. 
Home,  Charles  F. 
Hotel   de  Bourgogne,  98,   102,   115, 

423,  468,  469,  470,  499,  500,  561. 
Hotel  du  Petit  Bourbon,  499. 
House  of  Moliere,  The,  see  Come- 

die  Franchise,  La. 
Housekeeper,    The,    see    Castalda, 

La. 
House   Party,    The,   see   Villeggia- 

tura,  La. 

Houssaye,  Amelot  de  la,  232. 
Houssaye,  Arsene,  475. 
Howells,  William  Dean,  45,  576. 
Huillet,  Madame  Pothovin  d',  479. 
Hundred  and  Four  Mishaps  in  One 

Night,  The,  see  Cento  e  quattro 

accident?  in  una  notte. 


lago,  451. 
Ibsen,  127,  378. 

Imaginary  Cuckold,  The,  see  Cocu 
imaginaire,  Le. 


684 


INDEX 


Imer,  Giuseppe,  62-63,  64,  65,  67, 
69,  71.  77»  !23>  !42>  *73>  3."- 

Impostor,  The,  see  Raggiratore, 
II. 

Impostore,  L'  (The  Swindler),  de- 
scribed, 383-384;  source  of,  76; 
273. 

Impressarlo  delle  Smirne,  L'  (The 
Manager  from  Smyrna),  290- 
291,  509. 

Impromptu  de  Versailles,  U  (The 
Versailles  Impromptu),  194,  541, 

543- 

Improvised  comedy,  G  attacks,  82 ; 
defined,  87-119;  begins  early  and 
humbly,  89;  absorbs  classic 
plots,  89-90;  distinguished,  91; 
writers  of  scenari  for,  92 ;  sur- 
vivals of,  92;  lazzi,  92-93;  doti, 
93;  zibaldone,  94;  scenari  de- 
fined, 92-93 ;  distinguished  from 
religious  plays,  94-95;  require- 
ments of  actor  in,  95 ;  under 
censorship,  95;  used  in  cause  of 
liberty,  96;  criticized  by  Bar- 
bieri,  96;  by  Tassoni,  96;  by 
Garzoni,  96;  described  by  Gar- 
zoni,  97;  scenari  of,  97-98;  Cal- 
lot  draws  characters  in,  97-98; 
women  on  stage  of,  99-100;  debt 
of  world  to,  100;  make-up  in, 
100;  Moliere  adopts  technic  and 
characters  of,  100;  modern 
drama  derived  from,  101 ;  local- 
ized in  cities,  102 ;  mask  char- 
acters in,  103-109;  lovers  in, 
109-110;  origin  of,  no;  in  an- 
cient Rome,  112-113;  in  modern 
Europe,  113-116;  dramatic  situ- 
ations in,  116;  defects  of,  116- 
118;  virtues  of,  118-119;  deca- 
dence of,  124-126;  G  and  reform 
of,  127-130;  in  Venice,  177;  its 
decadence,  178;  infirm,  406; 
Gozzi  defends,  408,  415;  in 
Paris,  499-503 ;  flowers  in  The 
Fan,  etc.,  512,  516-517;  teacher 
of  both  Moliere  and  G,  540. 

Indric,  Gian  Paolo,  21,  42. 

Incognita,  L'  (The  Unknown),  298. 

Ingegneri,  84. 

Innamorati,  Git  (The  Lovers),  de- 
scribed, 298-299;  227. 

Inquietudini  di  Camilla,  Le  (Ca- 
milla's Tribulations),  480,  505. 


Inquisitive  Women,  The,  see  Donne 
curiose,  Le. 

Intrepid  Woman,  The,  see  Donna 
forte,  La. 

Ircana  in  Ispaan  (Hircana  at  Is- 
pahan), 443. 

Ircana  in  Julfa   (Ircana  at  Julfa), 

443- 

Isabella,   119. 

Isabelle,  in  //  Moliere,  544. 
Isacco,  in  Pamela  Unmarried,  370. 
Isola  di  Bengodi,  L',  561. 
Italy,  art  of,  in  eighteenth  century, 

6;   renaissance  drama  in,   83-85; 

improvised    comedy    in,    87-119; 

debt    of   modern    theatre   to,    98- 

100. 


Jealous    Miser,     The,    see    Avaro 

geloso,  L'. 
Jealous    Women,    The,    see    Donne 

gelose,  Le. 

Jerusalem  Conquered,  437. 
Jerusalem  Delivered,  436. 
Jeu  de  I'amour  et  du  hazard,  Le, 

308. 
Jevre,   in  Pamela   Unmarried,  366, 

373,   375- 

Jewkes,  Mrs.,  364. 
John  V  of  Portugal,  157. 
Johnson,  Samuel,  422. 
Jomelli,  137. 

Jourdain,   Monsieur,   530,   551,   559. 
Jonson,  Ben,   114. 
Jouen,  476. 

Jovial  Men,  The,  see  Morbinosi,  I. 
Jovial    Women,    The,    see    Morbi- 

nose,  Le. 


Kalidasa,   194. 

Knight  of  the  Tuft,  The,  in  Tasso, 
438. 


Laibach,  G  in,  31. 
Lalli,  Domenico,  65. 
Lancisi,  Giovanni,   13. 
Lantieri,   Count  of,   31. 
Laprime,   586. 
Larroumet,  Gustave,  365. 


INDEX 


685 


Lasca,  II,  in. 

Lastenio,  408. 

Laujon,  481. 

Lauzio,  Professor,  22,  23,  132,  133. 

Lavinia,  in  The  House  Party,  253- 
257.  f 

Lazzari,  A.,  9,  13. 

Lazzarini,  178. 

Lazzi,  defined,  92-93. 

Leandre,  in  //  Moliere,  544. 

Leandro,  no;  in  The  Coffee-House, 
281-284. 

Lee,  Vernon,   no;   112,  357,  403. 

Lefebvre,  Catherine,  478. 

Leghorn,  G  in,  166,  259. 

Lekain^  474,  527.  ^ 

Lelio,  in  improvised  comedy,  no, 
500;  in  The  Liar,  291-292;  in 
The  Housekeeper,  307 ;  in  The 
Love  of  the  Three  Oranges,  417; 
in  The  Punctilious  Ladies,  553, 

556-557- 

Lelio,  see  Riccoboni,  Luigi. 

Leporello,  92. 

Le  Sage,  500. 

Lettres   de   la   montagne,  Les,  486. 

Leyden,  449. 

Liar,  The,  see  Bugiardo,  II. 

Libera,  in  The  Chioggian  Brawls, 
.350. 

Lindane,  in  L'Ecossaise,  379-380; 
in  The  Scotch  Girl,  380-381. 

Lindoro,  in  the  Zelinda  plays,  507- 
508. 

Lindoro's  Jealousy,  see  Gelosia  di 
Lindoro,  La. 

Lisaura,  in  the  bourgeois  comedies, 
276. 

Lisbon,  483,  505. 

Lisca,  in  Terence,  434. 

Lisetta,  in  Marriage  by  Competi- 
tion, 513-514- 

Literary  Scourge,  The,  422. 

Little  Dalmatian,  The,  see  Dal- 
matina,  La. 

Livia,  in  Terence,  434;  in  The  Ca- 
pricious Woman,  452. 
" Locandiera,  La    (The  Mistress    of 

the     Inn),     characterized,     207- 

208,  264-268;  200,  278,  509. 

Locatelli,   Domenico,  499. 

Lohner,  Hermann  von,  10,  n,  13, 
33,  70,  75,  169,  393. 

Lombard!,  Doctor,  in  The  Bank- 
ruptcy, 145. 


Lombardo,  Balanzon,   name  for   II 

Dottore,  105. 

London,  444,  450,  483,  490,  505,  517. 
London  Assurance,  513. 
Lone     Woman,     The,     see    Donna 

sola,  La. 

Longhi,  Pietro,  7. 
Lope  de  Vega,  126,  427. 
Loredan,   Caterina,  204. 
Lorenzini,  158. 
Lorenzino,    in     The    New    House, 

342,  345- 
Loretto,  219. 
Louis,  Antoine,  476. 
Louis  XIV,  115. 
Louis  XV,  483,  487,  489,  494. 
Louis  XVI,  483,  494,  495,  497,  532. 
Louise  Elizabeth,  Princess,  483. 
Louise  Marie,  Princess,  488. 
Love    as    a    Doctor,    see    Amour 

medecin,  V. 
Love  of  the   Three  Oranges,  Thet 

see  A  more  delle  tre  melarancie, 

L'. 
Lover  of  Himself,  The,  see  Amante 

di  se  medesimo. 

Lovers,   The,  see  Innamorati,  Gli. 
Lucanus,  in   Terence,  434. 
Lucca,  164. 
Lucietta,    in    The   Boors,    330-331; 

in  The  Neva  House,  342-343,  458 ; 

in    The   Chioggian  Brawls,   350- 

356;   in  The  Public  Square,  463. 
Lucky    Heiress,     The,    see    Erede 

fortunata,  L'. 
Lucretius,   590. 
Lucrezia,  in   The  Jealous   Women, 

324-325. 
Lucrezia    romana    in    Constantino- 

poll,  73. 
Ludro,  in  The  Man  of  the  World, 

140. 
Lunardo,    in    The   Boors,    326-337; 

339,  340,  457,  511. 
Lyons,  G  in,  468. 


M 


Maccus,  108,  113. 
Machiavelli,  Nicolo,  24,  87. 
Machmout,   in    The  Persian  Bride, 

442. 
Maddalena,  E.,  268,  383,  474,  476, 

537,  566,  567,  568. 
Maddalo,  437. 


686 


INDEX 


Madre    amorosa,    La    (The    Fond 
Mother},  305-306. 

Maeterlinck,  Maurice,  421. 

Maffei,    Count    Scipione,    50,    135, 
508.^ 

Maggiore,   Francesco    (Ciccio),  80. 

Magnifico,  II,  name  for  Pantalone, 
103. 

Maids-of -all-Work,  The,  see  Mas- 
sere,  Le. 

Maison  neuve,  La,  347-348. 

Make-Up,    Theatrical,    due   to   im- 
provised comedy,  100. 

Malamani,  Vittorio,   175,   190. 

Malcontenti,    I     (The    Discontent- 
ed], 259,  347,  401. 

Malherbe,  153. 

Man  and  Superman,  139. 

Man  of  the  World,  The,  see  Uomo 
di  mondo,  L'. 

Manager  from   Smyrna,    The,   see 
Impresario  delle  Smirne,  L'. 

Mandragola,  La  (The  Mandrake], 
24,  87,  133- 

Mandrake,    The,   see  Mandragola, 
La. 

Mantegna,  85. 

Mantovani,    Dino,    207,    224,    226, 
227. 

Mantua,  G  in,  170,  190. 

Mantzius,  Karl,  99,  100,  529. 

Manage  de  Figaro,  Le,  528,  571. 

Maria  Theresa,  79. 

Marianna,  395. 

Marie  Antoinette,  488,  495,   578. 

Margarita,  in   The  Boors,  33<>-33i- 

Marini,  154. 

Marivaux,  277,   308,  358,  361,  365, 
481,  500,  519,  525- 

Marliani,     Maddalena,     183,     200, 
208,  293. 

Marly,  G  in,  488. 

Marmetta,  a  name  for  Colombina, 

109. 

Marmontel,  451,  481- 
Marriage  by  Competition,  see  Mat- 

rimonio  per  concorso,  II. 
Marseilles,  G  in,  468. 
Martelli,  Pier  lacopo,  31,  154,  431- 

432. 

Martinelli,  Drusiano,   114. 
Marzio,  in  The  Coffee-House,  278- 

285,  382,  457»  5",  530. 
Mascarille,   a  name  for  Bnghella, 

jo6. 


Maschera,  Sior,  231. 

Masi,   Ernesto,    121,   296,   297,  482, 

512. 

Masks,  separated  into  groups,  102 ; 
Venetian,  102,  107;  Neapolitan, 
103,  107;  Pantalone,  104;  II  Dot- 
tore,  104;  half  masks,  105;  full 
masks,  105;  Zanni,  105;  Arlec- 
chino,  105;  Brighella,  105;  Pul- 
cinella,  107;  minor  characters, 
108-109;  in  Austria  and  Ba- 
varia, 114;  in  France,  114,  115- 
116;  in  Spain,  115;  in  England, 
114-115. 

Massere,    Le     (The    Maids-of -all- 
Work),  457,  459. 
Master    Theodore    the    Grumbler, 

340-341. 

Matamoras,  108,  109. 
Matrimonio  per  concorso,  II  (Mar- 
riage   by    Competition),    513-515, 
5*6,  51/- 

Matteucci,  Antonio,  190. 
Mazoni,    Guido,    14,    133,   171,   190. 
Maurizio,    in    The   Boors,    326-328. 
McKenzie,   Kenneth,   511,    512. 
Medebac,    Girolamo,    G   returns  to 
Venice  with,  81 ;  marks  epoch  in 
G's  life,  122 ;  D'Arbes  in  troupe 
of,    165;    G   becomes   playwright 
for,   167-169;   engages  Sant'  An- 
gelo  theatre,  182;  signs  new  con- 
tract   with     G,     185;     niggardly 
conduct,  198;  notified  of  G's  de- 
parture,   207;    takes    profit   from 
G's  publications,  212;    G  suffers 
from  labours  for,  214,  402. 
Medebac,    Teodora,    167,    179,    182, 

207-208. 
Medico    olandese,    II    (The   Dutch 

Doctor),  446,  449-450. 
Memoirs    of    Carlo    Goldini,    The 
(Memoirs    de    M.    Goldoni),    8, 
576-578. 

Memorie      inutili      (Useless      Me- 
moirs), 404-405,  408,  416. 
Menander,  86,  119,  132,  357,  510. 
Meneghino,   109. 
Menelaus,  178,  395. 
Menechina,    in    The    New    House, 

342,  343,  345,  346. 
Menteur,  Le    (The  Liar),  291-292. 
Mercanti,  I   (The  Merchants),  de- 
scribed, 292-293;  200,  501. 
Merchants,    The,    see    Mercanti,   /. 


INDEX 


687 


Mercure  de  France,  Le,  481. 

Mere  confidente,  La,  365. 

Merlato,  Maria,  252,  257. 

Merlino,  in  Women's  Tittle-Tat- 
tle, 322-324- 

Mestre,   171. 

Metastasio,  38,  134,  136,  137,  154, 
156,  173,  177,  291. 

Mezzettino,  a  name  of  Arlecchino, 
105. 

Milan,  G  in,  51-57;  Valerini  under 
censorship  in,  95;  G  visits,  190. 

Miles   Gloriosus,   108. 

Military  Lover,  The,  see  Amante 
militare,  L'. 

Mimes,  112. 

Miracle  plays,  see  Drama,  Reli- 
gious. 

Mirandolina,  in  The  Mistress  of 
the  Inn,  264-268,  278,  307,  457. 

Misadventure,  The,  see  Contrat- 
tempo,  11. 

Misanthrope,  The,  452,  474,  518, 
538-539- 

Miser,  The,  see  Avare,  L'. 

Miser,  The,  see  Avaro,  U. 

Miss  Jenny,  translated  by  G  from 
the  French  of  Madame  Ricco- 
boni,  469,  583. 

Mistress  of  the  Inn,  The,  see 
Locandiera,  La. 

Mocenigo,  172. 

Mocenigo,   Giovanni,  204,  480. 

Mocenigo,  Sebastiano,  480. 

Modena,  G's  family  originates  in, 
8;  prominent  there,  9;  G's  fam- 
ily removes  from,  9 ;  G's  father 
has  property  in,  22 ;  G's  esca- 
pade in,  25 ;  G  in  University  of, 
32;  G's  mother  in,  59,  63;  leaves, 
66;  invaded  by  Sardinians,  74; 
G  in,  75,  170,  214;  Chiari  visits, 
399-400. 

Modena,  Duke  of,  G's  kinsman 
councillor  to,  9;  visits  Venice,  9; 
gives  protection  to  G,  40;  in- 
volved in  war,  74,  75;  G  pre- 
sented to,  77-78. 

Moglie  saggia,  La  (The  Sensible 
Wife],  described,  253;  200,  240, 
301,  458,  509. 

Mole,  474. 

Moliere,  raises  French  comedy  to 
superlative  level,  23 ;  G  resolves 
to  study,  24;  Secchi  and  Bar- 


bieri  supply  plots  to,  92 ;  no  old 
women  on  stage  of,  99 ;  adopts 
improvised  comedy  technic  and 
characters,  100;  first  of  modern 
playwrights,  100;  doctors  of, 
suggested  by  II  Dottore,  105;  his 
Mascarille  and  Scapin,  107;  de- 
rives his  soubrettes  from  Colom- 
bina,  109;  improvised  comedy 
lovers  in  plays  of,  no;  uses 
Italian  material  and  technic, 
116,  118;  G's  Don  Giovanni 
Tenorio  in  imitation  of,  120; 
differentiated  from  G,  120;  G 
lacks  power  of  social  criticism 
of,  152-153;  G  knew  works  of, 
194;  G  lacks  power  of,  239;  and 
daring,  240;  his  realism  and  G's 
naturalism,  310;  pure  comedy  of, 
362;  G's  sentiments  more  radi- 
al, 373J  before  modern  audi- 
ences, 378;  much  less  prolific 
than  G,  427;  and  more  passion- 
ate, 428;  G  less  forceful,  452; 
G  uses  method  of,  455,  G  in- 
vokes shade  of,  468;  G  sees  The 
Misanthrope,  474;  his  courtier- 
ship,  490;  artistic  decency,  510; 
G  invades  realm  of,  519;  plays 
compared  with  G's,  533-560, 
compared  with  G,  590-591. 

Moliere,  II  (Moliere},  described, 
430-432,  542-546;  199,  395,  508, 
539,  543- 

Moliere,  a  Jealous  Husband,  see 
Moliere  marito  geloso. 

Moliere  marito  geloso  (Moliere,  a 
Jealous  Husband),  395. 

Molina,  Tirso  de,  92,  547. 

Molmenti,  Pompeo,  98,  125,  172, 
173,  I77,.2i3,  337,  341,  432. 

Momolo,  in  The  Man  of  the 
World,  139;  in  The  Prodigal, 
141. 

Momolo  cortesan,  139. 

Monde  ou  I'on  s'  ennuie,  Le,  261. 

Monnier,  Philippe,  171,  178,  230, 
237,  260,  273,  276,  417,  591. 

Monsigny,  448. 

Montagu,  Lady  Mary  Wortleys 
230. 

Monte  Rosso,  Marquis  de,  in  The 
Intrepid  Woman,  451. 

Monte  parnasso,  II,  226. 

Moore,  Charles  Leonard,  360. 


688 


INDEX 


Morbinose,  Le  (The  Jovial  Wom- 
en}, 457,  460-461,  515-. 

Morbinosi,  I  (The  Jovial  Men), 
457,  459-46o,  509. 

Morgan,  Miss  Anna,  511. 

Morley,  John,  567. 

Morosini,  172. 

Mostellaria,  91. 

Mostro  turchino,  II,  421. 

Movelli,  29. 

Mozart,  92,  137. 

Munich,  339. 

Muratori,  486. 

Murray,  Lord,  in  L'Ecossaise,  379- 
380. 

Musatti,  Cecare,   137. 

Musset,  Paul  de,  403. 

Mystery  plays,  see  Drama,  Reli- 
gious. 


N 


Nane,    in    The    Respectable    Girl, 

316. 

Nanine,  361,  374. 

Naples,  parent  of   Pulcinella,    107. 
Natural  Son,  The,  see  Fils  naturel, 

Le. 

Neri,  Achille,  413,  467. 
Neufchateau,  Frangois  de,  568. 
New  House,   The,  see   Casa  nova, 

La,  and  Maison  neuve,  La. 
Nice,  G  in,  467. 
Nores,  84. 
Novelli,  525. 


Obedient  Daughter,  The,  see  Fig 
lia  obbediente,  La. 

Olivetta,  in  The  Obedient  Daugh- 
ter, 289. 

One  of  the  Last  Evenings  of  the 
Carnival,  424-426. 

Onof  rio,  in  The  Punctilious  Ladies, 
156-157. 

Opera  comique,  its  creators,  448; 
La  Comedie  Italienne  unites 
with,  468;  G's  estimate  of, 
469. 

Opera  eroica,  defined,  92. 

Opera  Franchise,  102,  115,  477. 

Opera  mista,  defined,  92. 

Opera  reale,  defined,  92. 

Orazio,  in  improvised  comedy,  no. 


Orfeo    (Orpheus),  85. 

Oronte,  derived  from  Pantalone, 
103. 

Oronte  re  de'  Sciti,  73,  137. 

Orpheus,  see  Orfeo. 

Orsetta,  in  The  Chioggian  Brawls, 
350-351,  356. 

Orsi,  Contessa,  466. 

Orteschi,  Luigi,  231. 

Ortensia,  in  improvised  comedy, 
no. 

Ortolani,  135,  356,  372,  375,  393, 
395,  396,  435,  467- 

Ostentatious  Miser,  The,  see  Avare 
fastueux,  L'. 

Osteria  della  posta,  L'  (The  Post 
Inn],  269. 

Othello,  451. 

Ottavio,  in  bourgeois  comedy,  no, 
119;  in  The  Father  of  a  Family, 
288;  in  The  Obedient  Daughter, 
289;  in  The  Inquisitive  Women, 
297;  in  The  Fanatic  Poet,  302; 
in  The  True  Friend,  549;  in  The 
Punctilious  Ladies,  557-559. 


Padre  di  famiglia,  II  (The  Father 

of    a    Family),    described,    288- 

289;  188,  306. 
Padre  per  amore,  11    (The  Father 

through  Love},  452. 
Padua  Packet,  The,  see  Burchiello 

di  Padova,  II. 
Padua,  University  of,  G  a  student 

in,  40-41. 
Pailleron,  261. 
Paisiello,  137. 
Palermo,  552. 
Palladio,  98,  173. 
Pamela,  La  Chausee's  comedy,  362; 

De  Boissy's  comedy,  362. 
Pamela,     in     Pamela     Unmarried, 

367-368. 

Pamela    maritata     (Pamela    Mar- 
ried], 223,  376. 
Pamela    nubile     (Pamela     Unmar* 

ried),    described,    366-376;     195, 

208,  223,  360,  361,  365,  376,  395, 

406,  432,  578. 
Pamela;     or,     Virtue     Rewarded, 

361-363. 
Pancrazio,    in    The    Father    of    a 

Family,  288;  in  The  Merchants, 


INDEX 


689 


293;    in    The    Venetian    Twins, 

391,  545- 

Pandolfo,  a  derivative  of  Panta- 
lone,  103;  in  the  bourgeois  com- 
edies, 276;  in  The  Coffee-House, 
287;  in  Marriage  by  Competi- 
tion, 513. 

Panich,  in  The  English  Philoso- 
pher, 444-446. 

Pantalone,  in  the  improvised  com- 
edy, 103-104,  101,  102,  103,  105, 
no,  in,  113,  116,  118,  126,  143, 
144,  178,  233,  415,  497;  in  the 
bourgeois  comedies,  272-273,  308- 
309,  373- 

Pantalone,  in  The  Sensible  Wife, 
253;  in  The  Prudent  Man,  274, 
303 ;  in  The  Obedient  Daughter, 
289 ;  in  The  Merchants,  292,  293 ; 
in  The  Fickle  Woman,  293;  in 
The  Inquisitive  Women,  294- 
295,  298;  in  The  Unknown,  298; 
in  The  Lovers,  298-299;  in  The 
Antiquarian's  Family,  300;  in 
The  Sensible  Wife,  301 ;  in  The 
Clever  Woman,  303;  in  The 
Clever  Lady's-Maid,  306;  in 
The  Housekeeper,  306;  in  The 
Respectable  Girl,  314;  in  The 
Good  Wife,  320;  in  The  Swin- 
dler, 383-384;  in  The  Military 
Lover,  384-385;  in  The  Love  of 
the  Three  Oranges,  417;  in  The 
Whimsical  Old  Man,  478;  in 
The  Jealous  Miser,  550;  in  The 
Punctilious  Ladies,  554. 

Pantalone  imprudente,  II,  207. 

Pantalon  Paroncin  (Pantaloon,  a 
Fop),  106. 

Pantaloon,  see  also  Pantalone,  101, 
178. 

Pantaloon,  a  Fop,  see  Pantalon 
Paroncin. 

Pantomime,  102. 

Paoluccio,    in    The    House    Party, 

254-.  . 

Papermi,  212. 
Pappus,  113. 
Paradisi,   Agostini,    G   visits,   466; 

G    writes,    503 ;    recommends    G 

to  Voltaire,  534. 
Pariati,  65,  137. 
Parini,  154. 
Paris,    G   invited   to,   423,   464;    G 

arrives  in,  468 ;  G  describes,  470- 


471 ;  G  comes  to  leisure  in,  497- 
498;  dramatic  work  in,  499-531; 
last  days  in,  561-586;  death  in, 
586. 

Parma,  9,  G  sees  battle  at,  60;  G 
in,  217-218,  437. 

Parma,  Duke  of,  F.  M.  Guldoni 
in  orchestra  of,  8;  G  composes 
libretti  for,  217;  appoints  G 
court  poet,  217;  at  Colorno,  217- 
218;  renews  G's  pension,  466; 
dies,  448. 

Parrhasian   Grove,   157. 

Pasini,  Catterina,  G's  grandmoth- 
er, 10. 

Pasqua,  in  The  Chioggian  Brawls, 
35°,  352-356;  in  The  Public 
Square,  462. 

Pasquali,  228,  465. 

Pasqualino,  in  The  Respectable 
Girl,  312;  in  The  Good  Wife, 
320. 

Pasquariello,  in  improvised  com- 
edy, 109. 

Pasquella,  in  improvised  comedy, 
109,  119. 

Passalacqua,  La,  67-69,  547. 

Pastor  Fido,  196. 

Pavia,  G  at  Ghislieri  College  in, 
22-23;  G  in  scrape  at,  26-27,  132. 

Peche,  Teresa,  268. 

Pedrolino,  a  name  for  Brighella, 
105,  107. 

Pere  de  famille,  Le  (The  Father 
of  a  Family) ,  Diderot's  comedy, 
475-  . 

Perfetti,  Bernardino,  158,  159,  437. 

Periodo  dell'  esagerazione,  153. 

Persia,  441. 

Persian  Bride,  The,  see  Sposa  per- 
siana,  La. 

Peru,  441. 

Perucci,  547. 

Perugia,  13,  16. 

Peruviana,  La  (The  Peruvian 
Girl),  441. 

Peruvian  Girl,  The,  see  Peruviana, 
La. 

Pesaro,  Spaniards  retreat  to,  78; 
Gian  Paolo  there,  78;  G  arrives 
in,  79. 

Petrarch,  158,  159. 

Pettegolezzi  delle  donne,  I  (Wom- 
en's Tittle-Tattle),  described, 
320-324;  195. 


690 


INDEX 


Philador,  448. 

Philip  V  of  Spain,  56. 

Philip,      Infante      of      Spain,      see 

Parma,  Duke  of. 
Phormion,  435. 
Piacenza,  G  in,  25,  467. 
Piantaleone,  104. 
Picard,    in    The    Beneficent    Bear, 

^522-525. 
Pindar,  159. 

Pinero,  Arthur  Wing,  253. 
Pierrot,    derivative    of    Brighella, 

105,^107. 

Piisimi,   Vittoria,   115. 
Pinto,  Bartolommeo,  299. 
Pirlone,  in  //  Moliere,  545. 
Pisa,  G  in,  160,  161-164. 
Pisani,  Marina  Sagredo,  214. 
Pitt,  William,  230. 
Pittoche  fortunati,  I,  421. 
Pizzighettone,  G  at,  siege  of,  58. 
Pizzolato,   Giuseppe,  339. 
Place,   Pierre  Antoine   de   la,   476, 

481,  583. 
Piautus,  86,  91,  108,  119,  132,  434, 

435,  5io,  549. 

Podesta  of  Chioggia,  35,  50-51. 
Poeta    fanatico,    II     (The    Fanatic 

Poet],  153,  195. 
Poirier,  Monsieur,  253. 
Poliziano,  85. 
Poloni,  Maddalena,  299. 
Poloni,  Pietro,  220-221,  225. 
Pompadour,  La,  476. 
Pontano,  no. 
Porte,  De  la,  476. 
Post   Inn,    The,   see   Osteria   delta 

posta,  V. 

Prata,  Count  Francesco,  51,  53. 
Prati  di  castello,  155. 
Precieuses  ridicules,  Les,  261. 
Presles,  Due  de,  253. 
Preville,  474. 
Prevost,  361,  441. 
Prodigal,  The,  see  Prodigo,  II. 
Prodigo,  11    (The  Prodigal],   141- 

142;  73,  347- 
Prologo    apologetico    della    vedova 

scaitra,  188,  392-393. 
Properzio,      in      The      Contriving 

Woman,  253. 
Prudenzio,  a  name  for  II  Dottore, 

104. 
Prudent  Man,  The,  see  Uomo  pru- 

dente,  V. 


Public  Square,  The,  see  Campiello, 

Pulcinella,  described,  107-108;  101, 
102,  109,  113,  1 1 6,  219,  222. 

Punch,  a  derivative  of  Pulcinella, 
101. 

Punctilious  Ladies,  The,  see  Fern- 
mine  puntigliose,  Le. 

Puntigli  domestici,  I  (Domestic 
Bickerings),  described,  301;  200, 
302. 

Pupilla,  La  (The  Ward),  musical 
interlude,  63 ;  play  in  verse, 
452-453- 

Putta  onorata,  La  (The  Respecta- 
ble Girl),  described,  311-320; 
150,  185,  188,  321,  376. 

Putte  di  Castello,  Le  (Girls  of  the 
Castle  Quarter),  311. 


Quattro   rust  eg  hi,  I,   339. 
Querini,  Angelo,  204,  406. 


Rabany,  Charles,  453,  505,  528,  587. 

Racine,  136,  362,  440. 

Radi,  Francesco,  40,  41. 

Raffi,  Gasparo,  182. 

Raffi,  Lucia,  182,  183. 

Raffi,    Maddalena,    183,    200,    208, 

293- 
Raffi,    Rosalina,    see    Arbes,    Rosa- 

lina  D'. 
Raffi,  Teodora,  see  Medebac,  Teo- 

dora. 
Rage  for   Country   Life,    The,   see 

Smanie  della  villeggiatura,  Le. 
Ralph  Roister  Doister,  114. 
Rangoni,  Marquis  Bonifacio,  214. 
Rangoni  theatre,  400. 
Raphael,  85. 

Rasi,  Luigi,  66,  165,  167,  183,  324. 
Rattlepate,  The,  see  Donna  di  testa 

debole,  La. 
Re  cervo,  II,  421. 

Reggio,   G  visits  Paradisi  in,  466. 
Regnard^soo,  525. 
Reni,  Guido,  153. 
Respectable    Girl,    The,    see   Putta 

onorata,  La. 
Return  from  the  Country,  The,  see 

Ritorno  dalla  villeggiatura,  II. 


INDEX 


691 


Riccardo,  in  The  Boors,  331;  in  A 

Curious  Mishap,  377. 
Ricco  insidiato,  II   (The  Harassed 

Man  of  Wealth),  451. 
Riccoboni,  Francesco,  469. 
Riccoboni,  Luigi,   93,   95,   112,   362, 

500. 

Riccoboni,  Marie  Jeanne,  469,  582. 
Richardson,  Samuel,  122,  242,  361, 

363-365,  376. 
Richelieu,  98. 
Ridolfo,  in  the  bourgeois  comedies, 

276;   in  The  Coffee-House,  277- 

288. 

Rimini,  G  in,  17,  78,  79,  80,  81,  122. 
Rinaldo  di  Montalbano,  73. 
Rinoceronte,  109. 
Ripafratta,    Cavaliere   di,    in    The 

Mistress  of  the  Inn,  265. 
Ripa   Verde,  Marchese  di,  in   The 

Respectable    Girl,    313;    in    The 

Good  Wife,  320. 
Ritorno     dalla     villeggiatura,     II 

(The  Return  from  the  Country}, 

259,  450. 

Roberti,  Giambatista,  401-402. 
Roberto,    in    The    Discreet    Wife, 

250-251. 

Robertson,  Donald,  378. 
Robespierre,  588. 
Rocca  Marina,  II  Conte  di,  in  The 

Fan,  511,  530. 
Rodrigo,  in  The  Cavalier  and  the 

Lady,  241,  249.  ^ 
Rome,  L'Arcadia  in,  6 ;  G's  father 

studies    medicine    in,    13;    G   in, 

219-233. 

Romana,  La,  65. 

Rosa,  Salvator,  108,  109. 

Rosalba,  La,  7. 

Rosamund,  see  Rosmondo. 

Rosaura,  in  the  improvised  com- 
edy, no;  in  The  Artful  Widow, 
233-236;  in  The  Sensible^  Wife, 
253,  301 ;  in  the  bourgeois  com- 
edies, 276;  in  The  Fickle  Wom- 
&n,  293;  in  The  Clever  Woman, 
303 ;  in  The  Housekeeper,  306- 
307;  in  The  Military  Lover, 
384-385;  in  The  Punctilious  La- 
dies, 552-559- 

Rose,  Madame  La,  in  Marriage  by 
Competition,  515. 

Rosetta,  a  name  for  Colombina, 
109. 


Rosina,  in   The  New  House,   343- 

344- 

Roslyn,  253. 
Rosmondf  (Rosamund"),   G's   play, 

64-65 ;  older  play  by  Rucellai,  86. 
Rossini,  105. 
Rostand,  Edmond,  452. 
Rousseau,  Jean-Baptiste,   159,   252. 
Rousseau,  Jean-Jacques,  anticipated 

by  G,   373;   481;   in  Paris,   562; 

G  visits,  563-565. 
Rucellai,  86. 

Ruggeri,  Giovan  Maria,  65. 
Raggiratore,    II     (The    Impostor), 

described,  261-262;  302. 
Rusteghi,    I     (The     Boors),     de- 
scribed,   326-339;    228,   240,   341, 

422,  457,  512,  531,  591. 
Ruzzante,  II,  172. 


Sabbioneta,  98. 

Sacchi,  Antonio,  73,  125,  143,  163, 
409,  416,  421,  506. 

Sagredo,  203. 

Salmon,  Thomas,  441. 

Salo,  50. 

Salvioni,  10-11. 

San  Benedetto  theatre,  174. 

San  Cassiano  theatre,  196. 

San  Giovanni  Crisostomo  theatre, 
*73,  174. 

San  Luca  theatre,  174,  183,  G  in 
service  of,  206-229;  actors  of, 
209-211;  311,  348,  349,  424. 

San  Moise  theatre,  174,  182. 

Sanniones,  105,  113. 

San  Samuele  theatre,  62,  64,  183, 
187,  39i,  394,  4i6,  421. 

Sand,  George,  545. 

Sand,  Maurice,  no,  112. 

Sant'  Angelo,  Castle  of,  155. 

Sant'  Angelo  theatre,  Elisa  pro- 
duced at,  65;  leased  by  Mede- 
bac,  171;  173,  179;  G  playwright 
for,  167-169,  182-198;  rivals  of, 
182;  D'Arbes  leaves,  188;  G's 
last  season  at,  207-209. 

Sarcey,  Francisque,  380. 

Sardpu,  347-34^,  513- 

Saurin,  476. 

Savi,  Elena,  408,  501. 


692 


INDEX 


Sbocchia,    in    The    Swindler,    383- 

384. 

Scacciati,  55,  57,  59,  61,  62. 

Scala,  Flamminio,  92. 

Scamozzi,  98. 

Scamp,  The,  see  Birbaf  La. 

Scapin,  106,  107,  435. 

Scappino,  503. 

Scaramouche,  see  also  Scaramuc- 
cia,  101,  108. 

Scaramuccia,  101,  108,  119,  178. 

Scherillo,  Michele,  88-89. 

Schiava  Chinese,  La  (The  Chinese 
Slave),  396: 

Schiller,  533. 

Schlegel,  593. 

School  for  Mothers,  The,  see  Ecole 
des  meres,  L'. 

Sciugliaga,   Stefano,  401,  491,   569. 

Scoffer  of  Seville,  The,  see  Burla- 
dor  de  Sevilla,  El. 

Scotch  Girl,  The,  see  Scozzese,  La, 
and  Ecossaise,  L'. 

Scozzese,  La  (The  Scotch  Girl), 
378-382. 

Scribe,  513. 

Scuola  delle  vedove,  La  (The 
School  for  Widows),  391-394, 
187,  579. 

Scuola  di  ballo,  La  (The  Dancing 
School),  452. 

Secchella'ri,   Giuseppe,  407. 

Secchi,  Niccolo,  92. 

Seducteur,  Le,  571. 

Semiramis,  202. 

Sendron,  109. 

Seneca,  84. 

Sens  ale  di  matrimoni,  II,  207. 

Sensible  Wife,  The,  see  Moglie 
saggia,  La. 

Serva  amorosa,  La  (The  Devoted 
Servant),  described,  306;  200, 
203,  458. 

Servant  of  Two  Masters,  The,  see 
Servitore  di  due  padroni,  II. 

Servants,  in  The  Maids-of- All- 
Work,  457-458;  in  The  Sensible 
Wife,  458;  in  Hazards  of  Coun- 
try Life,  458;  in  The  Upper 
Servant,  458;  in  The  Devoted 
Servant,  458;  in  The  New 
House,  458;  G's  injunction  to, 
458-459. 

Servjftore  di  due  padroni,  II   (The 


Servant  of  Two  Masters),  de- 
scribed, 142-143,  145;  102. 

Sganarelle,  105,  106. 

Shadwell,  547. 

Shakespeare,  101,  114,  427,  439, 
451,  510,  541. 

Shaw,  Bernard,  139. 

Sibillone,   169. 

Sienna,  G  in,  159. 

Silvio,  in  improvised  comedy,  119; 
in  The  Love  of  the  Three 
Oranges,  417. 

Simon,  in  The  Boors,  326,  328-330, 
332-336.  ^ 

Simone,  Giovanni,  224. 

Singer,  The,  see  Cantatrice,  La. 

Sior  Maschera,  231. 

Sior  Todero  Brontalon  (Master 
Theodore  the  Grumbler),  de- 
scribed, 340-341. 

Sixtus  IV,  98. 

Smanie  della  villeggiatura,  Le 
(The  Rage  for  Country  Life), 
258. 

Smart  Women,  The,  see  Femmine 
puntigliose,  Le. 

Smeraldina,  a  name  for  Colom- 
bina,  109,  415;  in  The  Man  of 
the  World,  140;  in  The  Love  of 
the  Three  Oranges,  417. 

Smith,  Winifred,  91,  100,  104,  no, 
112,  115. 

Sneezing  of  Hercules,  The,  see 
Starnuto  di  Ercole,  Lo. 

Sophie,  Princess,  492. 

Spain,  Italian  mask  actors  in,  114. 

Spavento,   108. 

Spezzaferro,  109. 

Spinelli,  Adolfo,  191. 

Spinelli,  Alessandro  G.,  10,  n,  33, 
190,  191,  212,  482. 

Spirito  di  contraddizione,  Lo  (The 
Spirit  of  Contradiction),  451. 

Spirit  of  Contradiction,  The,  see 
Spirito  di  contraddizione,  Lo. 

Sposa  persiana,  La  (The  Persian 
Bride),  described,  441-443;  209, 
359,  395- 

Sposa  sagace,  La  (The  Artful 
Bride-Elect),  240,  451. 

Stael,  Madame  de,  440. 

Starnuto  di  Ercole,  Lo  (The  Sneez- 
ing of  Hercules),  31. 

Statira,  137. 


INDEX 


693 


Stentorello,  109. 

Stoppino,  Fra,  97. 

Stryienski,  Casirair,  488. 

Sugana,  Luigi,  296. 

Supplica,  La,  96. 

Suppositi,  I    (The  Disguised] ,  90. 

Suzanne,     in     improvised     comedy, 

109. 

Swindler,   The,   see   Impostore,  L'. 
Sylvestre,  Madame,  483. 
Symonds,     John     Addington,     112, 

403,  412,  416. 


Talismano,  II,  561. 

Tancrede,  203. 

Tarsense,  Aurisbe,  466-467. 

Tartaglia,   108,  415,   in   The  Love 

of  the  Three  Oranges,  417. 
Tartana,  La    (The    Tartan],   408- 

410. 
Tartuffe,  Le  (The  Hypocrite],  544, 

555- 

Tasso,  of  Goethe,  440. 
Tasso,  Torquato,  86. 
Tasso,  II  Torquato,  436-440. 
Tassoni,  Alessandro,  96. 
Tavola  rotonda,  La,  410. 
Teatro    comico,    II     (The    Comic 

Theatre],      described,      192-195; 

117,  129,  143,  226,  433,  509,  541, 

543- 
Teatro  comico  all'  Osteria  de  Pel- 

legrino    (The  Comic   Theatre  at 

the  Pilgrim's  Inn],  411-412. 
Teatro  Olimpico,  98,   173. 
Teatro    San    Luca,    see    San    Luca 

theatre. 
Teatro  San  Samuele,  see  San  Sam- 

uele  theatre. 
Teatro  Sant'  Angelo,  see  Sant'  An- 

gelo  theatre. 
Terence,  86,  119,  132. 
Terence,  see  Terenzio,  II. 
Terenzio,  II    (Terence],  described, 

433-436;  430. 

Texas,  The  University  of,  511. 
Thamas,    in     The    Persian    Bride, 

442-443. 

Thayer,  William  Roscoe,  153,  429. 
Theatre  Favart,   102,   561. 
Theatre   Frangais,   see   also   Come- 

die  Franchise,  504. 
Theatre  Guenegaud,  499. 


Theatres,  modern  type  of,  origi- 
nates in  Italy,  98;  in  other  coun- 
tries, 98-99. 

Theodore  (Todero),  in  Master 
Theodore  the  Grumbler,  340-341. 

Tiepolo,  Chevalier,  480. 

Tiepolo,  Nicolo  Maria,  7,  125,  205. 

Titta-Nane,  in  The  Chioggian 
Brawls,  350-356. 

Toffali,  Chevalier,  589. 

Toffalo,  in  The  Chioggian  Brawls, 
35o-35.i»  356. 

Tomio,  in  Tasso,  438. 

Tonin  bella  grazia  (Elegant  An- 
thony], 149,  166,  167,  391. 

Tordinona  theatre,  219,  221-222. 

Torquato  Tasso,  II  (Tasso],  de- 
scribed, 436-440;  204,  430,  433. 

Torre,  578. 

Torre,  A.  Delia,  14. 

Torrismondo,  86. 

Tragedy,  Bourgeois,  362. 

Trentadue  disgrazie  d'Arlecchino, 
Le  (Harlequin's  Thirty-Two 
Misfortunes],  described,  142;  73. 

Trevisan,   172. 

Trieste,  G  in,  31. 

Tripoli,  517. 

Trissino,  84,  86. 

Trissino,  Count,  50. 

Trissotin,  152. 

Tristan,  86. 

Trivellino,  105,  109. 

Tron,  Caterina  Dolfin,  404. 

Tronchin,  Doctor,  567. 

True  Friend,  The,  see  Vero  amico, 

Truffaldino,  a  name  for  Arlec- 
chino,  105,  109,  415;  in  The 
Servant  of  Two  Masters,  143; 
in  The  Man  of  the  World,  140; 
in  The  Bankruptcy,  145 ;  in  The 
Love  of  the  Three  Oranges,  417; 
in  The  Jovial  Men,  509. 

Turendot,  421. 

Turin,  G  in,  199,  537. 

Tuscany,  G  in,  81,  152. 


Ubaldo,    a    derivative    of    Panta- 

lone,  103. 
Udall,  114. 

Udine,  G  in,  29,  65-67. 
Ulisse  il  Giovane,  178. 


694 


INDEX 


Una  delle  ult'ime  sere  di  carnovale 

(One    of   the   Last   Evenings    of 

the  Carnival),  424-426. 
United  States,  see  America. 
University  of  Chicago,  The,  5x1. 
University  of  Texas,  The,  511. 
Unknown,   The,   see   Incognita,  L'. 
Uomo  di  mondo,  L'   (The  Man  of 

the   World],  described,   138;    73, 

146,  147,  509. 
Uomo  prudente,  V    (The  Prudent 

Man],    149,    184,    240,    274,    303, 

391- 
Upper  Servant,  The,  see  Donna  di 

governo,  La. 
Useless    Memoirs     (Memorie    inu- 

tili),  404-405,  408,  416. 


Vadius,  152. 

Valere,  in  The  Beneficent  Bear, 
520;  in  //  Moliere,  544. 

Valerini,  Adriano,  95. 

Vanbrugh,  Irene,  268. 

Van  der  Duyn,  Baron,  572. 

Van  Goens,  Michel,  537. 

Vatican,  The,  99. 

Vecchio  bizarro,  II  (The  Whimsi- 
cal Old  Man),  215,  273,  454,  455, 
478,  53i. 

Vedova  scaltra,  La  (The  Artful 
Widow),  described,  233;  150, 
170,  185,  187,  391,  393,  397- 

Vedova  Spiritosa,  La  (The  Witty 
Widow),  220,  451. 

Vendetta  amorosa,  La,  396. 

Vendramin,  Antonio,  206,  207,  210- 

211. 

Vendramin,  Francesco,  206;  exe- 
cutes contract  with  G,  207,  211; 
writes  G,  223-228;  asks  G  to 
return  to  Venice,  482-483;  slow 
with  G's  royalties,  491 ;  G  sends 
play  to,  513. 

Venetian  Gondolier,  The,  see  Gon- 
doliere  veneziano,  11. 

Venetian  Twins,  The,  see  Due 
gemelli  veneziani,  I. 

Venice,  G's  statue  in,  3,  7;  G  born 
in,  3,  8 ;  condition  of,  in  eight- 
eenth century,  4;  writers  and 
painters  in,  7;  G's  family  re- 
moves to,  9;  G's  family  in,  13, 
15,  16,  21 ;  G  in  uncle's  law 


office  in,  21 ;  theatres  of,  cure  G 
of  religious  fervour,  34;  G  ad- 
mitted to  bar  in,  42 ;  wins  law 
suit,  46-47;  G  flees  from,  49; 
G  with  Imer  in,  64;  G's  first 
plays  in,  64-65 ;  brings  bride  to, 
72;  four  years  in,  73;  consul  for 
Genoa  in,  74;  comedy  masks  in, 
102,  107;  play-houses  of,  173- 
174;  theatrical  customs,  174-177; 
improvised  comedy,  177-178;  G 
at  Sant'  Angelo  theatre,  181-201; 
G  in  society  of,  203-205;  G  at 
San  Luca  theatre,  206-229;  de- 
scribed, 230-233;  cicisbeism,  237- 
264;  villeggiatura,  253-264; 
gambling,  287;  printing  and 
bookselling,  390;  Chiaristas  and 
Goldonistas,  397;  growing  free- 
dom of  thought  in,  406 ;  G's  fare- 
well to,  423-426;  G  writes  plays 
for,  480,  505;  their  reception, 
506;  difficulties  of  dialect  of,  592. 

Venier,  Maria,  410. 

Ventaglio,  II  (The  Fan),  de- 
scribed, 5"-5i3;  5i6,  517. 

Vero  amico,  II  (The  True  Friend), 
",  475,  549- 

Verona,  G  in,  50,  62. 

Veronese,  Camilla,  469,  478,  501. 

Verri,  Pietro,  402,  586. 

Verrier,   Charles,  269. 

Versailles,  G  in,  484,  486;  G 
leaves,  491. 

Versailles  Impromptu,  The,  194, 
54i,  543- 

Versi  sdruccioli,  453. 

Viaggiatori  ridicoli,  I,  218. 

Vicenza,  G  in,  50;  Teatro  Olimp- 
ico  in,  98,  173. 

Vicini,  E.  P.,  u. 

Vicini,   Giovanni  Battista,   33,   399. 

Victoire,  Princess,  492. 

Vienna,  483,  505. 

Vigee,  571. 

Villars,   56. 

Villeggiatura,  La  (The  House 
Party),  described,  253-261;  240, 

347- 

Villejuif,  G  in,  468. 

Virginia,  in  The  Cavalier  and  the 
Lady,  245,  246. 

Vitalba,  68,  69,  547. 

Vitali,  Buonafede  (The  Anony- 
mous), 54-55. 


INDEX 


695 


Vittoria,  in  the  villeggiatura  plays, 
260,  261. 

Vivaldi,  65. 

Volponi,  I,  561. 

Voltaire,  G  unacquainted  with 
Paris  of,  122;  hears  of  G 
through  Albergati,  202;  crowns 
Madame  du  Boccage,  218; 
praises  G's  The  Liar,  292;  pre- 
sents Nanine,  361;  Nanine,  374; 
L'Ecossaise,  378-381;  three  ver- 
sions of  play  in  Venice,  396; 
deism  of,  in  Venice,  405-406;  his 
verses  to  G,  414;  foe  of  Gozzi, 
422 ;  approves  G's  works,  465 ; 

Paradisi  translates  tragedies  of, 
466;  in  Switzerland,  481;  gives 
books  to  G,  496;  "The  Moliere 
of  Italy,"  533-538;  estimate  of 
G,  534-538;  G  visits,  566-569; 
characterization  of  G,  594. 

Volterra,  G  in,  160. 


W 


Wagner,  421. 

Walpole,  Horace,  479. 

Wanton  Day,  The,  see  Folle  jour- 
nee,  La. 

War,  see  Guerra,  La. 

War  of  the  Austrian  Succession,  74. 

War  of  the  Polish  Succession,  56, 
57,  58,  60. 

War,  The  Seven  Years',  465. 

Ward,  The,  see  Pupilla,  La. 

Watteau,  258. 

Weimar,  440. 

Whimsical  Old  Man,  The,  see 
Vecchio  bizzarro,  II. 

Widiman,  Count  Lodovico,  216- 
217. 

Widow,  The  Artful,  see  Vedova 
scaltra,  La. 

Widow,  The  Witty,  see  Vedova 
spiritosa,  La. 


Wippach,  G  in,  31. 

Witty  Cavalier,  The,  see  Cavalier 

di  spirito,  II. 
Witty    Widow,    The,    see    Vedova 

spiritosa,  La. 

Wolf-Ferrari,  Ermanno,  296,  339. 
Women  on  the  stage,  99-100. 
Women's    Tittle-Tattle,    see    Pette- 

golezzi  delle  donne,  I. 


Yale  Dramatic  Association,   513. 

Yale  University,  511. 

Young  Countess,  The,  see   Contes- 

sina,  La. 
Young,  Stark,  511. 


Zanetto,    in    The    Jovial    Women, 

461. 

Zanni,  described,  105-107,  in. 
Zanuzzi,    Francesco    Antonio,    464, 

468,  501. 
Zara,  G  in,  34. 
Zatto,  Andrea  del,  7. 
Zeim,  421. 

Zelia,   in   The  Peruvian   Girl,  441. 
Zelinda,  in  the  Lindoro  plays,  507- 

508. 
Zelinda    and   Lindoro's    Love,    see 

Amore  di  Zelinda  e  Lindoro,  Gli. 
Zelinda's   Tribulations,  see  Inquie- 

tudini  di  Zelinda,  Le. 
Zeno,  Apostolo,  7,  65,  136,  137,  173, 

291. 

Zeno,  Marco,  496. 
Zibaldone,  94,  190,  581. 
Zimmern,  Helen,  511. 
Zobeide,  421. 
Zola,  near  Bologna,  202. 
Zorzetto,    in    The    Public    Square, 

462-463- 


CIRCULATION  D 


QJ 

LIBRARY   OF  THE   UK 


)F   CALIFORNIA          LIBRARY    OF   THE    UNIVERSITY   OF   CALIFORNIA 


Ol 

LIBRiRY   OF   THE   UN 


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CUIFORNU         LIBRARY   OF  THE   UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA         LIBRARY   OF  THE   UNI 


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